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THE  SCOUT; 


OB, 


THE  BLACK  RIDERS  OF  CONGAREE. 


BY  W,  GILMORE  SIMMS, 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  PARTISAN,1'    "  MEIXICHAMPE,"    "KATHARINE  WALTON," 

"WOODCRAFT,"  "THE  YEMASSEE,"  "GUY  RIVERS,"  ETC. 


Failing,  I  know  the  penalty  of  failure 

Is  present  infamy  and  death pause  not , 

I  would  have  shown  no  mercy,  and  I  seek  none.' 

MARINO  PALIEBO. 


:RSITY 


CMIOAOO: 

DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO, 

407-425  DEARBORN  STREET 
1890 


PRINTED  AND  BOUND  BY 

DONOHUE  &  HENNEBERRY 

OHICAGO. 


THE    SCOUT. 


CHAPTER    I. 

HISTORICAL    SUMMARY. THE    SWAMP    RKTREAT 

,- 

AT  the  period  when  our  story  opens,  the  colonies  of  North 
America  united  in  resistance  to  the  mother-country,  had  closed  the 
fifth  year  of  their  war  of  independence.  The  scene  of  conflict  was 
by  this  time  almost  wholly  transferred  from  the  northern  to  the 
southern  colonies.  The  former  were  permitted  to  repose  from 
the  struggle ;  in  their  security  almost  ceasing  to  recognise  tin, 
necessity  of  arms ;  while  the  latter,  as  if  to  compensate  for  their 
respite,  in  the  beginning  of  the  conflict,  were  subjected  to  the 
worst  aspects  and  i/ ages  of  war.  The  south,  wholly  abandoned 
to  its  fate  by  the  colonies  north  of  the  Potomac,  was  coequal  tc 
the  struggle  single-handed.  Their  efforts  at  defence,  however 
earnestly  made,  were  for  a  time,  apparently  made  in  vain.  In 
experienced  in  regular  warfare,  with  officers  as  indiscreet  and 
rash  as  brave,  they  were  everywhere  exposed  to  surprise  and 
consequently  to  defeat.  They  lacked  money,  rather  than  men, 
experience  and  training,  rather  than  courage,  concentration  and 
unity,  rather  than  strength.  The  two  frontier  colonies,  South 
Carolina  and  Georgia — most  feeble  and  most  exposed,  as  lying 
upon  the  borders  of  Florida,  which  adhered  to  the  crown,  and 
which  had  proved  a  realm  of  refuge  to  all  the  loyalists  when 
iviven  out  from  the  other  colonies  —  were  supposed  by  the  Bri* 

166359 


8  THK  SCOUT. 

isli    commands  :    t«»  tin1  sway  of  the.il 

1,   In    com  .  tin'    usual    fortune   of 

\amjuished.      lint  the  very  sufiering  proved  that  theyliv.-  ! 
and  the  struggle  fur  freedom  was  continued,     Her  battl 

-mi, 

.    ulic.l  fn.rn  Mi-oiling-  sin'  to  son, 
Though  niton  lust," 

\  i -r  couriered   hy  her  friends  in  Carolina  to  In-,   utterl) 
hopeless.      Still,  they   had   frequent  reason   to   despair.      Cafes, 
tin-    successful    commander   at    Saratoga,  upon    whose   great    re 
nown  and   feeble  army  the  hopes  of  the  south,  lor  a  B6A80D,  ap 
peared  wholly  to  depend,  had  suffered  a  terrible  defeat  at  Cani- 
—  his   militia  scattered   to    the.    four  winds   of  Heaven  —  his 
iars  almost   annihilated   in   a  conflict  with   thrice  their  nuiM- 
.  which,  lor  fierce  encounter  and   determined  j-psoliition,  has 
rjeve  :    while   he,    himself,   a   fugitive,   c«.vere<! 

vilh    shame    and   disajipointment,  vainly  huug  out   his   tattered 
:;er  in  tlu1.  wilds  of  Ni>rth  Carolina  —  a  colony  sunk  into   an 
apathy  which  as  effectually  paralysed   her  exertions,  as  did  the 
iperior  power  paralyse  those  of  her  more,  sufierim: 
-ciuiis  of  indiscretion  and   a  most  fatal  presumption 
—  the  punishment  oi' which  had  l-een  as  sudden  as  it  was  severe 
— !  :1  MI  fie  red  far  h-v;  from  apprehension  of 

.  -!ian  of  his  country.      He  lia.l  madly  risked  her  strength. 

at  a  perilous  moment,  in  a  \  ttle,  for  which  he  had  made 

:i  —  in  v.-hich  he   had  .'-h«»wii  neither  resolution  noi 

The  l;\urels  o!'  his  old  renown,  withered  in  an  instant  — 

::ied  with  doubt,  if  not  with  dishonor.      11- 

ttd   despon- iiii£,  awaiting,  with   whatever  mora: 

•i  he  co;;ld  command,  the  summons  to  that  tribunal  of  hi; 

--.  upon  \\liicli  deiiende.il  all  the  remaining  honors  of  his  ven 

to  the  command  of  the  miserahlc 

remnan-  nthern  army.     Cool,  prudent,  and  circumspect, 

rather   than  brilliant,  .  0r,  this  gentleman  was,  perhaps, 

that  could   be  chosen  for  directing   the  HV«.rts  of 
a  people  whose  impulses  but   too  frequently  impaired   their 
duct  —  who  were  too  r.-iger  to  be  wary,  and  who  suffered  per- 


HIST 

petually  from  the  ra>h  and  gQ  of  their    native 

is  and   their  own  indif:  S  be 

long  to  a  vigilant  and  cautions  command.     The  etr<  liich 

moved  (;  ::duct  tlie  continentals  and  tin*  soutliern 

militia,  back  to  South  Carolina,  then  wholly  in  the  j 
of  the  British,  has  been  descril <ed  as  singularly  hold  and  auda 
cious.  But  how  ho  co'.ild  have  achieve-!  the  deliv.  :  the 
country,  without  pressing  into  it,  we  do  nut  see.  the 
disputed  prov  -eck,  find,  and  fight  h'  j  the 
very  for  which  he  had  been  despatched,  and  the  onlv 

to  the   conduct  which   he   should   display,  in 
•  with   that  of  Gat.          D  it    lay  in  the   prud. 

with  which  he  ji:  ,  which  the  latter  had 

sacri:  .d  hnpro-. '.  The  genius  of  On 

.ently  cautious,  and  his  ;  in  South  Carolina  was 

v    rashness   of  nioveme-  ,.  of 

design.     He  was  very  soon  ina<  ;is  that,  with   the  : 

;'.n  army  —  and  such   an  army! — n.  •  .  nn- 

drilled    nilliti'i,   few   in   number,  disheartened    l.y    ih-leat,  r. 

nothing  '. 
through  ;  ---watchful  thought,  and  rig, 

.  by  which,  almost   wholly,  the   great   captain 
:.      Hil    '      ini    I   formed   an   .  ,,art   of  ].\ 

tion,  and   tpiitr   a<   much    as   bis  valor,  COntrii 
ol>j-'ct.      If  )i"   did  not   alw  .  he  at    length   succeeded  in 

Uy    baflling   his   op;  ; 

jircsnm]>tnon 

nva.ler,  he  well  k  y  },y  whi 

him.      The    !  od  march- 

to  the  soldier,  in   an  nnkn-  ,lis. 

: 

clay  added  to  th- 
that  of  the  British.      Tin-  :.::!;•' 

more  rallj 

l;!lt 

•tatt'  free 

from  her  slun.1  B1  -.      II 

previous  flight  diul  inaction.      Yi, 


10  ll- 

as  her  own  -;fety  and  -  '.uty  should  b  .  !:n    wne 

not  all  ITIC€ 

of  the  general  of  the,  south;    and  from  Maryland  a 
came  a  band,  few  but  ;  -Mi-passed  by  none  of  all  th» 

troops  that  wer»   ever  raised   in  America.      The  tried  and   tough 
natives  of  the  mountains  and   the  swamps  emerged  once   : 
from  their  hiding-places  under  their  ancient  leaders;   more  reSO- 

y,  and    n:  >U8   in  their  1;. 

itainment,  from  the    shame    and    the    sorrow  which   i'oJ- 
I  their  previous  and  fivquent  disappointments. 

countenance  of  the    Irtish  commander  became  troubled 

be    gathering  f  evil    in  that    liori/on, 

.  !ly  fancied  that  lie  had  banished  every  cloud. 

His   troops  were   summoned    to  arms  and    to   renewed    activity; 

HO  longer  in  a  condition  to  elude,  the  arm. 
his  adversary.     Nor  did  he  now  so  much  desire  it.     The  ft 
sions   of  force  which    his   army   had    received,  and    which    drew 
upon  him   the   regards  of  Lord  Cormvallis,  had   necessarily 
the    American    general,   and    inspirited    his    purp 
\\\  policy,  though  still  properly  cautious.  Lofil   something  pi 

Ming  timidity;  and  he  boldly  penetrated,  in  the  face  of  the 
foe,  into  the  state  which  he  came  to  deliver.  A  series  of  small 
and  indecisive,  Imt  brilliant  adventures,  which  followed  the  dis 
persion  of  his  light  troops  over  the  country,  contributed  equally 
to  enlncn  the  hopes  of  the  commander  and  the  courage  of  hr, 
:,.  The  battle  of  King's  Mountain  had  been  fought  by  the 
brave  mountaineers  of  Virginia,  and  the  two  Carolina^,  in  which 
the  British  force  under  rYrguson  —  their  ablest  partisan  com 
mander  in  the  smith  —  was  utterly  annihilated.  Tarleton,  hith- 
rrto  invincible,  was  beaten  by  M'.r^an  at  the  Cowpens,  witli  a 
v;1>.  »r  army;  while  Ma: -ion,  smiting  the  tories,  hip  and 

thigh,  in  the  swamps  below,  and  Smnter.  in  a  succession  of 
brilliant  and  rapid  actions,  in  the  middle  country,  had  para- 
lyzeM  tlie  a.-tivity  and  impaired  seriously  the  strength  of  those 
8in;,llrr  ;  Hritish,  which  were  employed  to  overawp 

the  inhabitants  ami  secure  the  conquests  which  had  been  already 
made.  In  an  inc«nceivab!y  short  space  of  time,  the  aspect  of 
things  in  Sout)  Carolina  underwent  a  cban-e  The  panic  which 


-TOKICAL    >IMMARY.  11 

followed   the    d- 

~<  If    in    »  i  -.-.    that     the 

Briti>h  -  found  :i<-li\  c  and  «>p«  rathv  only  in  those  p 

they  hi-Id  rer,    while    the<c 

•  •pt  sulliciently  employed  l»y  tl 

Md    liim.      Brought    to    action    at    (iuilford.   he  was 
rather    than    beaten,    from    tin-    tirld;    and    a    few  d 
abled  him  to  turn   upon   hi>  purMier.  and   to  d  ..lit  from  the 

•  hie  h  In-  could  not   keep,  to  that   in   which  In-  became  a  cap- 
in    leaving   Carolina,    Cornwallis    left   the  interests   of    his 
.of    no  inferior  repr-  Lord  Ilawdon, 

Ml  him  in   the  command.       lie 

was  uni{iie-tiop.alily  one  of  the  :..-ral   ollieers  of  the  British 

army;  and  throuirli  a  protracted   trial  of  strength  with  his  opponent, 

i  the  duties  of  his  trust    \\ith  equal  skill,  vidlan- 
valor.        The    d.-cnit     of  into     South     Carol!:. 

him    into    that    >amc    neighborhood     which    had    proved    so    fatal 

1    by    the    >harp   action    of 
Hobkirk'-    Hill,    in    which     Hawdon    di-played     many     of     those 

d    qualiti-  luct    which   entitled    him    to    the  i: 

an  abl--  ;ined   with   the  British,  but  it  yielded 

but   barn-n   fruits.      It   gave   them  the  triumph,  but  not 
the  sucrc^.     The  victor  [y  not    with  Gtaeena     It   must 

but  for  a  miaappreheotioD  «.f  .  rs,  on  the; 

having    command    of    a    fa\ 

Our  riod.      The    battli-  of  HohkirkV  II:'.! 

was  prodiutive  upon    both   of  the   contending    ] 

which    broil  ;t    nn    equal    <  ri-i-    in    their   fortunes.      The 

losses  of  tl  Hies  on   that  occasion  were  nearly  the  same. 

But.    in   the  case  of  Rawdon,    the   country   offered    but    f. 
sources  against  any  external   ]  md    immediate    and  utter 

ruin     i  II,     bad  d    the 

1'irlds     trampled     upon     the     feelings,    and 

Despair 

them    a   spiri1  •  ••    and   the  appearance  of  an 

Auiericuu    army    which    wan  able    to    maintain    iu   ground  even 


12  THE   SCOUT. 

after  defeat,  encouraged  them  to  give  t«>  th.it  feeling  its  proper 
utterance. 

Comvnllis  had  long  before  complained  to  tlie  British  ministry 
that  he  was  "  surrounded  by  timid  friends  and  invetera: 
and  the  diminution  of  British  strength  and  courage,  which  no- 
•irily  followed  the  flight  of  that  commander  into  Virginia,  to- 
gether  with  the  defeats  sustained  at  Cowpens  and  K  iint- 

ain,  naturally  enough  increased  the  timidity  of  the  one,  and  the 
inveteracy  of  the  other  party.  That  atrocious  and  reckle^  war 
fare  between  the  whigs  and  torics,  which  had  deluged  the  fail- 
plains  of  Carolina  with  native  blood,  was  now  at  its  height. 
The  parties,  in  the  language  of  General  Greene,  pursued  earl) 
other  like  wild  beasts.  I'itr  seemed  utterly  banished  from  : 

ins.  Neither  sex  nor  age  was  serure.  Murder -lurked  upon 
the  threshold,  and  conflagration  lighted  up,  with  the  blazing  fires 
of  ruin,  the  still,  dark  hours  of  midnight.  The  reckless  brutality 
of  the  invader  furnished  a  sufficient  example,  and  provocation  to 
these  atrocities  ;  and  the  experience  of  ages  has  shown  that  hate 
never  yet  takes  a  form  so  hellish,  as  when  it  displays  itself  in 
the  strifes  of  kindred. 

Jt  does  not  need  that  we  should  inquire,  at  this  late  day.  what 
were  the  causes  that  led  to  this  division  among  a  people,  in  that 
hour  so  unseasonably  chosen  for  civil  strife  —  the  hour  of  fo-, 
invasion.     It  is  sufficient  for  our  present  purpose  that  the  fact, 
however  lamentable,  is  equally  unquestionable  and  well  known. 
Our  narrative  seeks  to  illustrate  some  of  the  events  which  grew 
out  of,  and  characterized,  this  warfare.     We  shall  be  com-> 
to   display,  along  with   its  virtues  of  courage,   patriotiMii,   and 
endurance,  some   of   its    crimes    and   horrors !      Yet   vainly 
unwisely,  would   we   desire    to    depict,   in    human    langua- 
measureless  atrocities.     The  heart  would  sicken,  the  mind  revolt 
with  loathing,  at  those  hideous  details,  in  which  the  acNrs  seem 
to  have  studiously  set  themselves  free  from  all  the  restraints  of 
humanity.     To  bum  and  slay  were  not  the  simple  perform, 
of  this  reckless  period  and  ravaged   country.     To  burn   in  wan 
tonness,  and  to  murder  in   cold  blood,  and  by  the   cruellest  t«-r- 
tures,  were   the   familiar   achievements   of  the   time;  —  and   the 
criminal  was  too  frequently  found   to   exr.lt   over  his  evil  deed* 


THK  13 

he  ..ry  cntln;  the  Mohawk  wtfricr,  even 

In  .ngh  t1  -etrihutio:  l:ii;i  with  '.varning 

••'.TUU 

' 

;a,  and  in  the  wills  of  Florida —  from,  all 

the  ,  -- availed  then 

ity    '  a   lodgment  in  tlio  s. vamps,  the   forests,  ami 

•,  mounted  on  fleet  horses,  trave- 
with  the.  \\ind  ;  now  here,  now  there;  one  moment  operat'n: 

i.nah,  the  next   on   the    JVedee  ;    BOmetin 

witliir.  sight  of  th--  <  f  the  me-  and  anon,  building 

their  own  fires  on  the  lofty  summits  .if  the  Apalachiau  ridge. 

hv  the  j:red:it"ry  iooadfl   "f  :he.--e   outlawed  sipiad- 
stung  by  their  insults,  ai>  1  maddened  by  their  enoni 
»hc  :  1  and  suflering  inhabitants  gathered  in  little  bands 

for  their  overthrow;   and  South  Carolina,  at  the  period  of 
narrative,  presented  the  terribl 
arms,   and   hourly   engaging   in    the    ino.st    sanguinary   coir 

district    of  country  called 

!  of  which  our  story  will  partly  '.  i  to  hav> 

within  its  borders,  at  the  ci<>M-  "i"  :        .  !i«>n,  im  less  than 

fifteen  hundred  widows  and  orphan  made  BO  duri 

!;nded  th  • 

•hat  drunl.  .:.  v.-hii-h 

follows  upon    '  .   had    made    insc: 

imn  the  daw;:.  'hat  the  1  '  :  tin 

lina  which 

livi-ra:;.-.-.       V. 

dusky    shadows    nf    ' 

.    that    threatened    niomeiitl;. 

of  the    tall    < 

!ed  capriri'11'..-ly  with   :' 
th;,'  til    folded 

uber  on  the  dark  snrfar  N. 

voice  of  bird   or   '•    i>t,  n<>  man,  ih-nnte-!.  n,  that 


14  THE   SCOUT. 

;'  any  form  of  ':  '  in  its  .-is 

poets,  certainly,  ro»l(l  persuade  tin-   cnsn  I  -ppct 

that  .1  single  human  heart   heat  within   those  wild  and  dark 

Gloomy,  and    dent-o,  and    dim,  at    all   seasons,  the    very 
trihutc  of  the  spring  in  this  —  the  generous  gifts  of  flowers  ami 
frr.it age  —  only  served  to  increase  the  depth  of  its  shadow  in  the 
rank    exuberance  of  its  vegciaMo  life.     The  vines,  and   si.;. 
and  briers,  massed   tin  :her  in  an  almost  solid   . 

|e    to    penetrate  ;    and    oven    wi 

through   teni;  :as,  the   eye   ohtained   a   p;;-  i.nd 

'his  formidable  han-ior.  the  dismal  lakes  which  it  enconnteroi!  — 
still  and  black  —  filled  with  the   decayed   trunks  of  past   contu- 
and  sunnoui,'  f trees  yet  in  the  \ 

lieir   growth,    defied    the    examination    or    the    cur-' 
scorned  to  rebuke,  with  frowning  and  threatening  shadow?,  oven 
the  presumption  of  a  search. 

But,  in   the    perilous  times   of  our  history,  those  seeming  dis- 
conr  red  tin-  kindly  purposes   of  security  and   shel 

ter.     The  sw.  Una  furnished  a  place  of  refuge  to  tin- 

patriot  and  fagitivOi  when  the  .Iv/elling  and  the  temple  yielded 
none.  The  more  dense  the.  wall  of  hriors  upon  the  edge,  of  the 
s\vam]>.  the"  morodismal  the  avenues  witliin,  the  more  a; 
to  those  who,  preferring  Liberty  t.vor  all  things,  could  there  build 
her  altars  and  tend  her  sacred  fires,  without  being  betrayed  by 
the;:  :.  .  Th-  BC<  DC  to  whicli  our  eyes  have  been  ad- 

-till  and  deathlike,  as  it  appears,  is  full  of  life  —  of  h- 
tliat  beat  with  hope,  and   spirits  that  burn  with   animation;   and 
:;nddon,  even    as  \-. 

rippling  into  tinv  wa\i->  th.it  betray  the  onward  motion  of  ,• 
unwonted  burden.      In  the  moment  of  its  dee;  mst- 

ling  is  heard  ain.'ng  the  wding   foll.-i-e.      A 

•rife    takes    j.lace    between    the   broken    w 
rude  trunks  of  the  cyp 

Idenly  through  the.  tangled  'id  approaches  the 

,  -    no   won!  —  no   voice,      A 

la  upright  in  the   centre   of  ihe    .  if  in 

its  forward  pi-»gu^s  through  the  :        no  dip  of  D.-U 

oo  stroke  of  paddle  betrays  his  efforts,  and  imjiaii  i.-inn 


I/; 

and 

I 
'..UK!  :  — 

!'•. 

Oi  '.'  itli  tin-  wind  to  <i 

r  of  our  little  canoe  is  indehted  for  her  p: 

•udled  the  vr.sH'l  of  1'ha-ilria  and 
•  iH-li  of  that  laughing  enchantress.     Still,  the 

(jiiitc  !]<•'!  fur  ah;.«-t  ••'*  little  exertion 

of  1.  ordinary  --arly 

.  rowth  nf  the  M\amj»  around 
::y  of  vliit-li,  a   hook,  or  fn 

kt-d   ln-ai, 

hirK  tightly  Imun-l   t»«   I 

Binows,  \Tliilc  the  -  left  frer,  to   take   hold   <.f  • 

idering  • 

(hi!s  that  tint- 

forward  to  th' 
• 
.  murmur.  •  toiu-li  of 

ll  ;    and    t;  p.t    fahric  whudi    it    imjxdled  with    a 

•:iies  of  the  Mvaiiij<  ''led 

v.-ith  'id   iinjiulse.  of  its  own;    pressing  aim  . 

\v   darting   freely  f'-rward  where  the 
.  .w  hni'ied  in  . 

nd  low,  ^hat   tl 

. 

!;t  its  romance 

.ent 
!i  irnjitdh-.!  :! .,  :i  t«>  the  hand  ,if  t1 

M  grape 
«-ith  which    the    middle   country  of  Carolina  in   l:V:ally 


16  THE  SCOUT. 

These  iling  themselves  witli  the  wind  in  which  they  swing  and 

:,  arching  themselves  from  tree  to  tree,  and  interlacing  their 
green  tresses  until  the  earth  1  clow  becomes  ,'i  strainer  to  the 
sun.  Their  Uue  droop  to  the  hand,  and  hang  around 

the  brows  of  the  fainting  and  feeble  partisan,  returning  from  the 

ict.  lit1  forgets  tl.o  cruelties  of  liis  fellow  man,  in  solacing 
himself  with  the  grateful  tributes  which  are  yielded  him  by  the 
.  Their  fruits  relieve  his  hunger  and  quench 
his  thirst  —  their  green  leaves  refresh  his  eye  —  their  shadow:- 
protect  him  from  the  burning  sunbeams,  and  coin-en!  him  from 
the.  pursuit  of  the  foe. 

Dark,  wild,  and  unlovely  as  the  entrance  of  the  swamp  might 

;,  still,  to  the  musing  heart  raid  contemplative  spirit  it  hai1 
its  aspects  of  beauty,  if  not  of  brightness  ;  and,  regarded  through 

moral  medium  as  a  place  of  refuge  to  the  virtuous  and  the 

',  when   lovelier  spots  afforded  none,  it  rises  at  once  In 
the  mind,  into  an  object  of  sacred  and  serene  delight.      Its  mys 
terious  outlets,  its  Druid-like   nooks,  its  little,  islands  of  rep".-e. 

>lemn  groves,  and  their  adorning  parasites,  which  clamber 
up  and  cling  to  its  slender  columns  a  hundred  feet  in  air,  fling- 
ir,g  abroad  their  tendrils,  laden  with  Haunting  blossoms  and 
purple  berries  —  all  combined  to  present  a  picture  of  strange 
but  harmonious  combination,  to  which  the  youthful  steersman 
wlio  guides  our  little  bark  is  evidently  not  insensible.  lie 
pause:;  at  moments  in  fav  ttd  his  large  blue 

.  looking  upward,  he  catches  some  bright,  hot 
far  and  foreign  glimpses  of  the  heavens,  through  the  ragget 
openings  in  the  umbr  v>  he  thus  gazes  up 

ward,  seemingly  forgetful  of  the  present  in  the  remoter,  we  m;n 
observe  him  at  our  leisure. 

e    to    invite   and    reward    examination 

Were  the  features  of  the  faee  sure  indices  always  ef  the  indi 
vidual  character — which  v.  the  per 
son  now  before  us  would  i  eat  land- 

:•  painter,  (.'"uld  we.  j-uppnse  that  the  season  and  'i-^i.-.n  "f 
which  we  write  v.  ight 

well    suspect   him    of  being  a  i  '•      The-    calm,  yet 

contemplate  :  he  upward,  outward   look;   the  waD 


17 

leriug  mood  ;   the  m«»uth  ;    : 

.  ;  —  the.-e,  and    Oth  -.vliieh    ai 

nahle,  would   seem  to  indicate    in  tl.c  •  roprietoi  ;:  ' 
tin*    pier  the 

stranger  that  declared, 
temper,  a  direct   aim,  an  energetic  will,  and  a  prompt  and  i 

iiis   purpii.M's.      It  would  not,  indeed, 
y,  that,  when  ho  paused   in    his  progress   through  tho 
p,  it  was   nut  of  some    more   seri»;is    pur 

inplate  the  picturesque  i:i  i: 
uition,  the   result  of  th 

Tmians  1...  beginning  of  thei.  with 

the  mother-Country,  may  have  prompted  him  '  ;tvh, 

ami  listen, In::.  be  approached  the  land.     li 

•  all  marked  hy  tin-  \i^iianee  of  one  who  was  fully  c'M).- 
of  t!  .  >nld 

:ire  from  the  r»\  ert,  and  when  a  single  in 
thn;-'  hore,  he  grasped  with  his  ! 

ing  \  li  lie  had  already  left  behind  him,  and  an< 

motion.     His  hoat  .^WUIIL'  lightly  upon  her  centre,  and  remained 
nary  f'<r   a    1-riei"   instant,  while,   drawing  from    hi-    real    a 

small  win  th-,  ma  le  of  the  common  re. 

merry  m.ti-,  which  went,  waking  up  a  h-.; 
the  still   recesses  of  t!  .      His  \vhi.Vi!< 

;0rht  him  .  hills 

iiich  he  v,  aching.      As   if  assured    1-y 

our  steersman   threw  up   !.'  :h  a 

pull,  and  the  harL 
•f  vines  and   Overhanging  hrauc!. 
the  ffateT)  1;.;.  D    him   ,11:-'. 

prow  was  directed.     A  threw  hi:; 

Hat  in  his  hoat,  a- 
np,  in  the   next   innnu-nt,  upon  tho    -r 

.ntly  npo 
of  n  clump  «•!' 

iuir  aid  out  of  sight.     A  : 

bil 
f          and,  promptly  following  where  i(  .vas  soon  . 


18  TIIK    £COUT. 


ov  one  wno  appeared  to  ha\ 

ante.      A    description    of   tlie,    two    thus  •!:   a 

clew  to  their   objects  as   may  seetn   rroper   to   be  given  «t  this 

early  period  in  our  progress,  may  well  be  reserved  lor  another 

chapter. 


CHAPTER    II. 

TIIK    FKIK.XPS A    COXKHH  KM  '  F-. 

Till-:  stranger,  as  he  leaped  upon  the  solid  earth,  appeared  of 
;-i  noble  and  commandi:  ice.      In   Miape   In-  was  symmet 

rically   and    vigorously   made.       Tall,    erect,    and    muscular,  his 
person  was  thai  <>f  one.  \\lio  had  been  loi;.  :aed  to  hardy 

asidacti\.  In  his   movements  there  was  a  « 

Milt  equally  of  a  fearless  spirit  and  a  n«.hle  i'orni  — 
which  t.-illied  well  with  a  certain  mil: 

commending  his  well-finished  limbs  to  the  eye.  v.  hile  convey 
to  the  mind  of  the  an  impression,  not  less  favorabli 

the  noble  and  linn  character  of  their  proprietor.      Nor  were  the. 
features    of  his    countenance,    wanting    in    anything   which 
needful   to   .support  this   impres.M'n:.      Ills   face  was  full,  bn: 
lleshy  ;    the  skin  of  a  clear  red  and  white,  which  the  rammer  SUM 

bad  simply  darkened  into  manliuos.     li  :  aii\el\ 

intelligent    hlue,  mi-'ht    have    .i.-imiud   a   rather    pivp-aider. 
playfulne^   of    temper,   hut    for    the 

mouth,  the   lines  of  which  were   m-.re   angular  than    roun-i. 
lips  being  loo  thin  for  softness,  and,  when  COmprft 

!  of  purpo.se.  which   tlie   jrenth-r  e 

his    i.ther    features    failed    entirely  to    qualify,      lie    had    a 
iiead,  b]«,ad,  intellectual  and  contemplative.     His  hair,  V 
B   dark   brown,  1.  like,   his   beard,  had    ! 

sufi'ereil  to   remain    nntrinn  "ch  in   c< 

with  the  ^'»'   liast 

'•  1 


It 

that 

!!«•  had, 

in  t!  had 

just 

•:nd   in  <•!  r  <-nlv  }  -Mm;:,  hut 

in  the   military.      In   its  material   and   make   it    D 

CD    nf  the   roil!:' 

pan'  !'  a  ilark   Muc    lirnncs]nni.  t' 

wrapped  in  h'^L'iMjrs  »l    a  BOmewl     I 

I'rom    those    tl:  en    olditcratci]    in 

lili»ti'  •  ami  tlir.,  from  tin*  vd- 

:np,  with  wliich   the  wearer  li;u; 
•  bat  it  wot 

A 

hunting-shirt  i  ei  1  hie  than  that  nl'liis  un.icr  clothes,  and 

per!  ttor  material,  which  n-ached  m'  n  his 

utial    parts  of  his   . 
•'on  of  tl  r 

•A'ithout    a    wrinkle,   and    dNplayeil    t1 

f«.nn  tot]  •  had 

it    wouhl    seem,  i: 

f    rif  this   onl\  ;.;il    trac- 

whirh  it 
had  passed,  than  \ 

'.-h    Miiiiir.untnl    ti  ind    li'll    havk  ujn.;. 

dliMii: 

' 

•tiT 

— '  ter  the  i. 

OilT. 

bun;- 


20  Tin- 

that  classic-   super:  Ul  of  which   modern  fa>hions  ah. 

wholly   deprive    the    i.  pect      l"p"n    his    head,   witliout 

shading  his  hrow,  re.-ted   a  caji  of  otter-skin,  rude   and  ample  in 

.ake.  the  work,  ino.st    prohaMy,  "f  M>me   favorite  slave.      A 

small   yellow  crescent,  serving   the   purpose  of  a   hutton,  looped 

tip  one  of  the  >ides  in  the   centre,  and    might,  on  occasion,  have 

lined  a  feather.      Plain    moccasins  of  huckskin,  the  original 

\ellow  of  which   had    heen   entirelv   lost    in    the    more    doubtful 

colors   acquired   in    the   swamp,  completed    the   external-  i.f  his 

It    may  he    added    that    he  wore   no   visihle    armor;   hnt 

be  stooped  to  fasten  his  skill  heside  the  shore,  the  hutt 

of  a  heavy  pistol  might  have  heen  seen  protruding  from  heneath 

tin'  thick  folds  of  his  hunting-shirt.    From  the  unnatural  full: 

of  the  opposite  breast,  it  would  not  be  rash  to  conjecture  that 

•capon  of  war  was  not  witliout  its  fellow. 

The  stranger  ascended  fr<>m  the  hanks  and  made  his  way  toward 
the  foot  of  the  heights,  that,  skirting  the  northern  edges  of  the 
Wateree,  conduct  the  eye  of  the  spectator  to  the  lofty  summits 
of  t!  hills  heyond.  Here  he  was  joined  hy  the  person, 

whose,  answering  signal  he  had  heard,  and,  who  had  evidently 
hec:i  for  some  time  expecting  him.  This  was  a  man  of  middle 
size,  stout,  well-made,  coarse  in  feature,  strong  of  limh,  active 
of  movement,  apparently  without  the  refining  influei. 
and  education,  and  evidently  from  the  lower  orders  of  the  people. 
Let  ii"t  this  phrase,  however,  he  understood  to  *5gnify  anything 

or  unhecoming.      Though  a  poor  man,  ournew  acquaint, 
was  not  the  work  of  one  of  nature's  journeymen,  fashioned  when 
the   "master   hand"  was    weary.      With   head   and   feet    equally 

,  he  carried  the  one  with  a  virtuous  erectisess  that  could  not  ho 
well   misunderstood;   while   the   other  were   set    down    with   the 

•oin  and  fcarh  '•  a  man  conscious  that   he  walked  the 

f  his  native  land  in  the  full  performance  of  the  equal  duties 

he  patriot  and  warrior.      In    this  hand    he  grasped    a   rifle  of 

immoderate  length,  the  fractured  stock  of  which,  lashed  togethei 

with  huckskin  thongs,  bore  tokens  of  hard  usage  in  more  respects 

than  one. 

The  unquestionable  poverty  of  this  man's  condition  —  which, 
was   that  of  the,  »vhole  American    army  —  did    ,m.     .-KStt 


TIIK  21 

to  have  any  effect  upon  his  deportment    or  to  give  him  any  un- 

know  that   his  garments  suffered 
uliar  defi.  r  did  tin-  language  of  a 

'    heart    declare    itself  with  so  little  re>ervation  from  a  blue 
ey*>  1-natured  physiognomy.    The  slight  cloud  of  anx 

which    hung  at  m«.inn:t>  above  his  brow,  and  which  gather- 
there  in  consequci.t  no  ordinary  kind,  could   not 

long,  at  any  time,  withstand   tlie  buoyant   action  of  the  cheerful 
spirit  within.      Thi>   constantly  shone  out   from    his    face,  and 
spoke   aloud    in   the   clear,  ringing   tones   r,f  his   manly  and   not 
unmusical  accents.     Drawing  nigh  to  our  iii>t  acquaintance,  he 
liis  hand  with  the  joyous  look  in  a  warm  manner  of  one 
felt,  in  the  meeting  with  his  comrade,  something  of  a  sent]', 
ment  far  stronger    than    that  which  governs  the  ordinary  friend- 
sh'l'-  men.      NVr  was   the    manner   »>f  his   comrad«- 

Jec:'  U'h,   })erhaps,   more   quiet   and   suhdued.     Tin- 

hftvior  of  the  twain  was  that  of  an  intimacy  unhroken  from 
boyhood,  and  made  mutually  confident  hy  the  exercise  of  trusts 
which  had  IMTH  kept  equally  >,uT"d  },y  hoth  the  parties. 

!'  ;  ..  -lad  youVe  come.      I've  been  waiting 

for  \  •    two  hor  v>  •    ;n    the    swamp  — 

and  did  you  tr\\  tJ10  letters?" 

"I  did:   all's  well  with  us  — pretty    much    as   when   you    left 
But  how  with  you,  Jack?     What  news  do  you  bring?     Is  the 

the  light  troops  gone  in  ?" 

D    I    may  -ay  yea.      (in, •:;,-'>    drawed    «>iV  fmm 
e    the    brush    at    II..bkirk's,  and    there's  no  telling 

now  which  way  he'i  going,     A.  km,  you  knot 

where  to  l...,k  for  him.      Lee's  g'.nc  down   on 
Bwhert  !•«•!. iw.  and  we're  all  tO  he  up  and  husv  at 
t(dl   of  great    things   to  do.     Our  gin'r,-.!, 
•!  picking  r,p  along  the  f'a' 

•hen  gallop's  the  word 

J  lor  at  (iranoy,  and— •" 

thing  of  Butler  ana 

^"'    '  -arc    they  oil'?      If  you 

•  I'D (.ul  him — " 

"  U  '    :     '  (iranby  bv  this  time.      They'v* 


22  THE  SCOUT. 

given  up  the  mint  as  a  bad  job.  I  saw  .1  .e  Clinch,  one  of  his 
trooj),  only  two  day-  Ago,  and  gin  him  a  sort  of  hint  that  the 
chap  they  were  after  was  more  like  to  he  found  above  :!n« 
Congaree  than  in  these  parts.  4  For  what's  to  BRV6  Ilim,1  I  said 
to  Joe,  'down  here  in  this  neighborhood,  where  we're  all  true 
blue,  and  he  a  lirehot  tory  if'  That  was  a  good  re 
Clinch  and  all  1  is  troop,  I  reckon.  They  tuk  it  for  one,  and  hy 
peep  of  dawn,  they  were  streaking  it  along  the  river  road. 
They've  got  to  '  Ninety-Six,'  hy  this  time,  and  even  if  they 
ba'ii't,  it's  all  the  same  to  us.  They're  out  of  your  way." 

"But  you  did  wrong,  John  Bannister,  in  saying  that  Edward 
Conway  was  a  tory.  He  himself  denies  it." 

"  Well,  Clarence,  that's  true,  hut  I  don't  see  that  his  deny 
ing  it  makes  much  difference.  It's  natural  enough  that  a  man 
should  say  he's  no  tory  when  he's  in  a  whig  camp.  The  vartue 
of  a  whole  skin  depends  upon  it.  There's  a  chance  of  hroken 
bones  if  he  says  otherwise,  which  Ned  (.'on way  ain't  a  going  to 
•esk." 

"At  least,  for  my  sake,  John  Bannister,  give  Edward  Coir.vay 
ihe  henefit  of  your  douhts,"  replied  the  other,  with  an  expiv 
of  grave  displeasure  on  his  countenance.  "  We  do  not  know 
that  he  is  a  tory,  and  the  best  of  men  have  been  the  victims  of 
unjust  suspicion.  I  must  repeat  that  you  did  wrong,  if  yon  loved 
me,  in  calling  him  hy  such  a  name.'' 

"Ah,  Clarence,  he's  your  hafe-hrother,  and    that's    the 
you  ain't  willing  to  believe  anything  agin  him;   but  I'm  dub'ous 
1  said  nothing  worse  than   the  truth  when    I    told  Clinch  he.  was 
a  tory.      I'm  sure  the  proofs  agin  him  would  have  hung  up  many 
a  tall  chap  like  himself." 

"No  more,  Jack  Bannister  —  no  more,"  said  the  other,  gloom 
ily.  "It  is  enough  that  he  is  my  brother.  1  am  not  willing 
to  examine  his  demerits.  I  know,  and  acknowledge  to  you, 
that  manv  things  in  his  conduct  look  suspicious;  still  1  prefv : 

to  believe  his  word  —  his  solemn  oath  —  against  all  idle  repoi; 

reports,  which    are    half  the    time    slanders,  and   \\hich  ha\v 
Stroyed,  1  verily  believe,   many  lives  and   charact.  >rthy 

4S  om  own.      You    know  that  1   have    no    reason  to  1<  ve  Edward 
Conway.    We  have  never  been  friends,  and  1  have  m  partialities 


kJJ 

Hi    !.' 

to  d.  .in  tim-nnviiii-.  j  .      I 

am  only  afraid    that    I    ;iin    !...,  \\iliin-  to  Udieve  what  is  said  in 

hi>  prejudice,     i'.ut  tliia  I  will  : 
it.     1 

• 

"Well,  that's   tlu-  ,  Clarence,  <>nly  in    ai, 

:.ian    that   would    act    a    lie,  wouldn't 
:ie.      Now.  it'  Kdward  Oonwuy  didn't  jin. 
bo  did  he  jim-  .'      II,-    didn't  jine    us,  .!id    he  .; 
ff  to  that,  riaivMr, 

••  N'o!  no!     Woul.l  to  G«.d  ho  could!" 

"  \\Y11,   then,  what    is   it    that   he   do.-  I'm   a-thinking 

that   it's  good  doctrine   to  helieve,  in    tin.  .  that   the 

man    that    ain't  with  us  is   a-in  .         him  show  what  he  did 

the  fall  of  Charle.ston.    He  warn't  there.    Y->u 

'1()11':  -  d..n't    he, 

:-d    you    kn(,\v    hi  '  It 

lit   in   the  liriti&Ii   iv^ii. 
they  carried    a    smart    eh;i;  that 

uraeter  l»y  taking  t<»  tin 

.    that  he  went  tli. 
"lie 
hut  still  den'h  that  he  ever  joined  th, 

"  '  hat 

I'm  I'm   mijrhtly  afean;    | 

ain't    trliin- you    t!ie    truth.      1   iroilldn'l    let    him  -I'd 

lj"ld  hm  i,  \\att-h  Uj  00   hi;.. 

.  and 
OU  have 

with  hii:.  ;i  thii.k  . 

keeping  him,  1  ri,,^  !,;,,, 

He'll   rr.i   :  that'll   j.ull  n 

l«'t  liim  l.e  ai!  thai  you  think  him,  the  tory  and  ti, 

him  as  a 


24  THE  SCOUT. 

though  h'.i  may  not  be  altogether  one.     He  shall  suffer  no  hanr 
at  hands  of  mine." 

••  Well,  I'm  sure  I  don't  say  Lie  ought.  To  keep  him  under 
a  strong  thumb  and  forefinger — to  keep  him,  as  I  may  say, 
out  of  mischief  and  out  of  danger  till  the  time  of  exchange 
comes  round,  won't  be  to  do  him  any  harm.  It's  only  on"  way 
<>f  feeding  a  mouth  that,  mought  be,  couldn't  feed  itself  so  well 
in  these  tough  times ;  and  taking  a  little  Jamaica  from  other 
.:hs  that  mought  like  it  jest  as  well,  and  dcsarve  it  a  great 
deal  better." 

"What,  Jack,  do  you  begrudge  Edward  Con  a\  n  >  pitifu 
(arc  which  we  can  give  him  in  the  swamp  1  You  arc  .-trangely 
altered,  Jack,  toward  him.  You  were  once  his  playmate  in  boy 
hood  as  well  as  mine." 

"  Yes,  Clarence,  and  'twas  then,  so  far  back  as  them  same 
days  of  our  boyhood  —  and  they  were  mighty  sweet  days,  too,  ] 
tell  yon  —  that  I  found  him  out,  and  Parned  to  mistrust  him 
God  knows.  Clarence,  and  you  ought  to  know  too,  that  Jack 
Bannister  would  like,  if  he  could,  all  the  flesh  <MH)  blood  in  this 
world  that  was  ever  a  kin  to  youx'n.  I  tried  r.iinity  ha, 
love  Ned  Con  way  as  I  loved  you,  but  it  r/as  like  n^htin."-  agin 
natur'.  I  tried  my  best,  but  couldn't  make  ii  out  with  « vi  my 
trying;  and  when  I  caught  him  in  tliat  bu.-imss  of  the  deck 
tailed  horse  —  " 

"Do  not  remind  me  of  these  iif/.terp,  now,  J*:-A,  I'm  afraia 
1  remember  them  too  well  alre.v 

"  You're  only  too  good  for  him,  Clarence.  I  soinshow  almost 
think  he  ain't  natrrally  even  a  half-brother  of  your'n  any  how 
You  don't  look  like,  him  ;  neitln  r  mouth,  nor  nose,  nor 

?hm,  nor  hair,  nor  forehead  —  all's  different  as  ef  you  ha'd  come 
from  any  tw<Hamilics  that  lived  at  opposite  ccnds  of  the  river, 
and  never  seed  one  another.    But,  as  you  say,  1  won't  'mind  you 
ny  matters  that  you  don't  want  to  hear  about.    Them  da; 
.  witli  me,  and  with  him  ;  and  so  I'll  shut  up  on  that  subject 
br  begrudging  him  the  bread  and  bacon,  and  the  drop  of  Ja 
maica.  ;i;-li  ;»v  we  git  in  the  swamp  yonder — well,  1  won't  say 
aothing,  because,  you  see,  I  can't  somehow  think  you  meant  to 
bay  what  you  did.    All  that  I  do  say,  Clarence,  is,  that  I  wisL  : 


THK     PRI]  M-  42*i 


had  enough  to  -'p.-.-  liini  that  would  |  him  to  show  clean 

iiis  friends  niid  blood-kin,  and  o>me  out  for  his  country, 
likv  m  tliat  has  a  man's  love-  for  the   airtli   that   i 

"I  kmv  you  mean  him  no  wrong,  Jack,  and  me  no  pain 
when  you  ad  -ise  me  thus:  hut  my  word  is  pledged  to  Edwaro 
Conway.  ami  1  -..ill  keep  it,  though  I  perish." 

"And  don't  I  t  -11  y-m  to  keep  it,  Clarence  ?  You  proi- 
to  save  him  from  P.u'ler's  men,  that  was  a-hunting  liini  ;  and 
what  better  way  than  to  keep  him  close  from  sight;  for,  if  he 
once  gits  a-going  agin,  an  !  they  find  his  tracks,  it  won't  be 
boldness  or  my  quickness  that'll  git  him  into  the  swamp  so 
easily.  If  Butler's  men  hadn't  been  up-countrymon,  that  didn't 
onderstand  swamp  cdication,  no  how,  he  wouldn't  have  had  such 
a  quiet  time  of  it  where  we  put  him.  Well,  you've  done  what 
y-'U  promised,  and  what,  I  reckon  eveiy  man  was  hound  to  do 
by  his  Mood-kin.  You've  saved  him  from  his  inemies  ;  but 
there's  no  need  you  should  give  him  your  best  nag  that  he  may 
>i)  full-speed  into  their  pastures.  N«.w.  tint's  what  you're 
a-thinking  to  do.  And  why  should  yo'i  I  If  he  ain't  a  tory,  and 
h  i-n't  been  one,  why  shouldn't  1  -.-.  hig  ?  Why  shouldn't 

he  do  what  he  ought  to  ha'  done  live  •>  —  jine   Sm, 

.    T   Mai  ion's  men,  or  Pickins'  men,  or  any  men   that's  up 
for  the  country  —  and    run   his   bullets    with    a   tory's  nan 
each  ?     I  don't  think  Ned  Couway  a  coward,  no  how.  and  when 
on't  come  out  for  his  country,  at  a  pushing  time  like  t1 

-idoring  him  a  mighty  friend." 

"  KvouL'h.  .Jack  ;  the  more  you   sj  11   think,  of 

matter,  the  more  unhappy  it  mal:  ;<>}>lied  the  other.     "  If 

I  darei!  to  think,  I   should   probably  cOffifl   to   morr  <  <.n- 

•::an  ynnrself  on   tl.  •    of  my  brotb.  ;ict 

which,    I    COnffeM    is    ;:!•  inscrutable.      I    have    only 

me,  and  thai  -ot  him  f 

and    let   him    rhm.se    hi-    .  «  hence  forward.      I  Irtve  not 

•  d  arguirr  '--uade  him  t"  .  and  he  lmld 

•.  that    w:  inished    certain   pri\ 

:  e  will  d" 

'       Lord  ha1  upon    us  '       I  i 


:M  mi-:  SCOUT. 

*)ody  talk,  of  private  hu>>5ness,  when  throat  cutting  is  so  public? 
—  When  there's  a  sort  of  Injin  hounty  for  sculps,  and  it  takes 
more  tlian  a  man's  two  hands  to  k  \vn  skin  and  teeth 

("nun  jroinjj  oft',  where  tliey  are  worth  tll»ir  weight  in  ^old  ]     Vri 
hnsines.x        Lock   you,  Clarence,  did  you  think  *o  «sk  him 
when  lie  had  last  seen  Miss  Flora  Middleton? 

•  N  »,  1  did  i  ot,"  returned  the  other,  abruptly,  .and  with  MTIK 
in  patience  in  his  manner.  "Why  should  I  ask  him  that?  f 
liad  no  reason  t««  suppose  that  he  had  any  particular  reason  for 
••MM],;/  l.er  at  this  or  at  any  other  ti: 

\r,  Chnvnce  you  needn't  he  teV-ng  me  that,  when  I  knou 
.'ich  hetter.      I    know   that   if  he    hasn't   a   reason  for  seeing 
he'-,  he's  alway.-.  had    •  mighty  stroi  ._•  wish  that  wav  ;   ami  as  for 
jcur   own    fetdin's,   ].,ird    Mess    you,   C'iarenre,   it's   no    fault    of 
yvMir'n,  if  ;-om'  man  i.».  the  io^i:uent  'lon't  know  the 

jdaee  in  the  colonel's  he--«.r'i  Lv  this  time,  ami  can't  put  his  tinker 
on  it  wli'-neve;   lie.  ]-h'.".-e>       If  you  lo\-e  Flora  Middleton  th.- 
no  h;»nn  in  it  ;    and  if  F  'M  ard  C"nway  l<.ves  her  t-xt  —  " 

He  paused,  and  lo  k"<1  at  his  companion  with  the  air  of  one 
••i-li,,  !•;  donhtfitl  of  t!:e  effect  of  that  which  he  has  already  said. 

'  Well  !      What  the  :  ?"  demanded  the  other. 

"Why,  o'llv,  there's  no  harm,  perhaps,  in  that  either." 

'  Ay,  hut  there  is,  ,J.>lin  P.aiinister,  and  y.m  know  it  ;"  ci'ied 
the  other,  almost  fiercely.  "  Fdward  C«.n\\ay  knew  that  I 
loved  Flora  Mi  idlet  n  lon«:  hefore  he  had  ever  seen  her." 

"  Ver\   true;    hut  that's  no  ;_  hy  he  slx.'ddu't  love 

her  wlien  he  did  see  her,  Clare:. 

"  But  it  is  gO(,d   reas:  n   why  he   should    n»»t   seek  ]I,M-  \\ith  his 


4  I  reckon,  Clarence.  l-e  don't  much  stand  upon  such  a  re.i 
son.  There's  nothing  hrotherly  in  love  matters.  Clarence  ;  ami 
•  •\  en  ;f  there,  was,  Ned  I  '  inw.iy  is  nlmut  the  last  per.-.tn  to 

much  count  of  it." 
••Hi-   does  —  he   shall!      Xay,  on  this  point    1    have   hi- 

He    tells   me  that   he  has  not   sought   her—  he  has  m>» 
her  for  months." 
•And  did  Edward  ('•  ly  tell  you  ?»<>,  darn:' 

*•  !'••  did  —  it   WM  almo>(  his  la>t  assurai.uv1  'A'hcn   I  lel'r  h'L:  " 


Tilt  %J7 

"Then   In-   tdl    v  .Me   an      abominable  rie. 

l\  •        |  I60J  her  withi:  ks." 

"Ha!  how  know  yoq  ?•• 

:n  little  Joe,  the  black>rnith,  that  was  down  by  W 

taken  from  the  1'ritish.      Little  Joe  wont  with  him 
Brier    Turk,  and  saw  h::;i    and   Miss   Flora  in  the  piazx 

•.•.•ui.g  man  clutched  the  butt  of  the  pistol  in  his 
with   a  convii!  «-MI    relaxed   it.      He    struck   his 

<ment,  with   bis  ..pen   palm,  then   strodt 
.'.-m,  as  if  to  conceal  the  emotion  whicli  he 
could  not  B  veiT'.me. 

11  W«  \claimed,  returning1,  "I    bad   a  strai  ge  fear — I 

know  hi.t  why  —  thru  there  ..etbing  insincere   in   hi.- 

::  Le   it    voluntarily —  we    had   not  named  her  — 

there  was  a  something  in  bis  face  wh.;-  v 

tnui'1  tiid  made  n  e  doubtful  of  his  truth.     But  he  will  ^o 

If  —  be  will  try  the  force  of  blood  beyond  its  patience." 

.  in  the  >bape  of  licking  that  sich 
1  fi'lb'\\ed  out  more  of  his  crooks  than 
'.en   there   was   no   var ;   and   he    had    all   the 
trick  D  then." 

"  Tl.  ' -ly   lie  to   me,  and  at  such  a  moment! 

ive  him  ! — AVhen  !  —  but  b 

grow  foolish.  ,  that   I  know  /ihn  and  suspect  him.      He 

.shall  find  that  I  1<  i  e  that  he  can  not  ,1. 

.heat   n:c  with  lovii.-  lanjrua^'e  ami  a  .Til'! 

"All,  •  He  bum 

juick    you    are    to    believ.-  ;    and    when    be    puts   on   them    I 
looks,  ami  talks  so  many  smooth  w.-rds.  and  makes   b'l; 
all  humility,  and  1.  .   \\bat   he's   done,  and 

williiii:  be  ••    i — and  all  ho  wants  is  a  little  time  — 

a  man  w.Mitrd  tin  •  t  in  !      I.""k  jron,  < 

and  what'-  more,  I'm  your  friend — you  k 
I  I"1  than  one   man   ever  h>\vd   am  ' 

and  jest    as  well   M  -i  »natl  '  as  TVC  read  in 

th.'  good  boob  ith  all  m\    h've    i  '  ; — n 

it  you  r*.y  longer  with 


28  our. 

his  Mveef  wirds  an  i  sugar  ;  .  I  \\  cut  loose  from  you  with 

a  jerk  that'll  tear  e\  .TV  j'int  ?ut  of  iVo  socket.  I  won't  be  the 
friend  of  no  urin  *hat  lets  himself  bo  cheated.  As  for  hating 
NVd  Conway,  as  you  BOinetimefl  say  I  do,  there,  I  say,  you're 
clean  mist;uken.  I  don't  hate  him  —  I  mistrust  him.  I've  trie«) 
mighty  hard  to  love  him,  hut  lie  wouldn't  let  me.  You  know 
how  much  I've  done  to  save  him  fiom  Sutler's  men  ;  but  I  saved 
him  on  your  account,  not  because,  T  thirk  he  desarves  to  be 
•\.  I'm  dub'ous  that  he.  is  a  t  :ry,  and  a  rank  tory  too,  if 
t'-.e  truth  was  known,  jest  as  they  rh.-M-ge  it  upon  him. 
dub'otlfl  he'll  jinc  the  British  as  soon  as  he  can  git  a  clnu 
and  I'm  more  thnn  dub'ous,  that,  if  you  don't  git  bef..re  him  to 
your  mother's  plantation,  and  run  the  niggers  info  the  swamp 
out  of  his  reach,  he'll  not  leave  you  the  hair  of  one — he'll  have 
'em  off  to  Charleston  by  some  .  f  his  fellows,  and  then  to  the 
"West  Injies,  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson,  or  what's 
a'most  as  easy,  Jack  Bannister.  There's  another  person  I  think 
you  ought  to  see  about,  and  that's  Miss  Flora.  Either  you  love 
her.  or  you  don't  love  her.  Now,  if  you  love  her,  up  and  at 
her,  at  once,  with  all  your  teeth  sot,  as  if  you  had  said  it  with 
an  oath  ;  for  though  I  know  this  ain't  no  time  to  be  a-wiving  ana 
a-conrting,  yet,  when  the  varmints  is  a-prowling  about  the  poul 
try-yard,  it's  no  more  than  sense  to  look  after  the  speckled  pullet. 
Take  a  fool's  wisdom  for  once,  and  have  an  eye  to  both  eenda 
of  the  road.  Go  over  to  the  plantation,  and  when  you're  thar', 
you  can  steal  a  chance  to  cross  over  to  Middleton's.  It's  my 
notion  you'll  find  Ned  Conway  at  one  place  or  t'other." 

"I'll  think  of  it,"  said  Clarence,  in  subdued  tones;  ''mean 
time,  do  you  take  the  canoe  back  to  the  island  and  bring  liiir. 
out.  The  horses  are  in  readiness?" 

"  Yes,  behind  the  hill.  I  '11  bring  him  out  if  you  say  so, 
Clarence;  but  it's  not  too  late  to  think  better  of  it.  lie's  safe, 
for  all  parties,  where  he  is." 

"  No,  no,  Jack  ;  I've  promised   him.     I'll  keep  my  pr- 
Let  him  go.     I  fear  that  he  has  deceived  me.     I  fear  that  ho 
will  still  deceive  me.     Still  1  will  save  him  from  his  enemies, 
and  suppress  my  own  suspicions.     It  will  be  only  the  worse  for 
him  if  he  does  me  wrong  hereafter." 


Ill  K. 

t'Urence.  if  IK-  turns  out  to  he  a  lory,  what  Ml  our  men  say 

u  harbored  liiin  /" 

y  '  —  perhaps,  that  I  am  no  better." 

.   no!    they   can't    say   that  —  they   sha'n't    say    it,  when 
nigh  enough  to  hoar,  and  to  Fend  his  hammer 
ii.t--  the  long  jaws  that  talk  sich  foolishness;  hut  they'll  think 
lighty  strange,  Clarence." 
"  I! anlly,  Jack,  when  they  recollect  that  he  is  my  father* 

"Ah,  Lord,  there's   mighty  few   of  us  pit   brothers   in    : 
times    in   Carolina.     A    man's    he.-t    brother    now-a-d.v. 
thing  he,  fights  with.     His  best  friend  is  his  rifle.      You  ma;. 

jack-knife  a  fi;>t-omsin,  and  his  two  pistols  his  cV 
and  even  then,  there's  no  telling  which  of  them  all  i 
fail  him  first,  or  whetl.er  any  one  among  'em  will   stick   l»y  him 
till   the   scratch    is    over.      Edward   Conway,   to    my   th'n.' 

6I1C6,  was   never  a  brother  of  your'n,  if  'brother*  has  any 
ming  of  '  friend'  in  it." 

u^-li,   enonirh,  Jack.      Leave,   mo  now,   and    biinur   him 
'i.     I  will  do  what  I  promised,  whatever  may  be  my  d- 
'il  guide  him  on  his  way,  and  with  this  night's  work  acquit 
f  all  ol. libations  to  him.     When  we  next  meet,  it  shall 
•u-h  terms  as  shall   for  ever  clear  up  the 
i  between  08.      Away,  now  !  —  it  will  be  dark  ii.  two  hours, 
and  we   have   little  time  to  waste.      The   >torm  which   threaten* 
04  vill  be  favorable  to  his  flight." 


SO  TllK   SCOUT. 


C  H  A  P  n  E  R   III. 

THK    RETROSl'I-VT —  TMK    Frc 

TKK  dialogue   between  the  two  friends,  which  has  ji. 
given,  will  convoy  to  the  mind  of  the  reader  ><»!  . 
8it.intii.il  .jf  ihe  parties,     UV  have  DO!  aimed   to 

manner  of  thi*  dialogue,  pn 

-hould   speak  entirely  for  l! .- 

this  plaee,  however,  'hat,  thron?:'  ;'".v 

counsellor,  whose  Inkiest   character  and  ^aim  frici.  QSti- 

tuted   his  perfect   claim   to  speak   unre.-cruV.ly  to    his  superior, 

,ycd  a  closed   deterniiiiatioii   not    to    he   satisfied  with  the 
disposition  which  the  latter   had  resolved  to  make  of  one  whom 
he.  was   pleaded    to   consider  ill   some   sort  a  prisoner.      On    the 
other  hand,  the.  younger  of  the  two,  whom  we  have  known    by 
the   name  of  Clarence  Conway,  and  who   held  a  colon, 
maud   over  one  of  those    roving   bodies  of  win-'   militia,  which 
were  to  he,  found  at  this   period   in  every  district  of  the  state  — 
though  resolute  to  release  his  l.r.-ther  from  the.  Imnorabh- 
in  which  circumstances  had  placed  him  —  .still  seemed 
the  necessity  by  which  he  was  pr.  <  this  pi- 

There  were  V&rioua  f.-«-!in-s  contending  for  mastery  in  1 
While  he  did   not  believe  in  the   charges  of  political    :. 
by  which  his  half-brother  was  stigmatized,  lie  waa  dug 

but  satisfied  that  his  purpo-  politically  honest   or  honor- 

}4ble.  Kcjnally  dubious  with  his  companion  on  the  subject  of 
Kdward  OoDWay'i  principles.be  \vasyet  not  j.repared  t..  believe 
in  the  imputation  which  had  been  cast  upon  his  performances, 
lie  suspected  him,  not  of  lighting  for  the  enemy,  but  of  the 
meaner  and  less  daring  employment,  ul  ^peculating  in  :hc 
necessities  of  the  country  ;  and,  in  some  way  or  other,  oi  craitdy 
availing  himself  of  its  miseries  and  want*,  to  reali/.e  that  wealth, 
the  passion  for  which  constituted,  he  well  knew,  a  leading  and 
greedy  appeti1*  in  the  thai  his  kinsman. 


THI:  H   ,ITI\ 

h  him  an  only  child — 
tlion  an  infant  —  t:  i  a  lir>t  marriage  with  a  lailv  of  i 

iii'il   in   lirinirin^   it   into  t!:e  \\mld.  eful 

g  manner  :  ied   intelligence   of  ihi.^   -ruth- 

man,  gained  him  the  favor  of  a  voting  la  ! y  of  tin-  <  '  .  \vho 

»'  son,  our  he:  >r\\   to  this  \\\. 

<an«l  .y    ojn-iicd    UJI..11    tin1    li^ht.   who. 

.  which   he  caught  in  conscij-iii-ni-f  ot 
tnion^    tlir    .-waiiij-s    of   the    lo\v    i-miutry. 
infant,  Clan-nri'.  lu'canic   the  i'avDriti;  of  his  ^raiulpai' 

:':nally  adopted.      lh-  thus   lu-c-anie  the  heir  of 
:    a    vastne>s    and    value    infinitely    heyond    i 
which,  hy  thi  .  tnre,  QCCessarilj  acrrned   t 

Bdwanl  C'Uiway  to    !•»•   the   ai-tual   j»o- 

.  '  \vay 

i.iin   earl\  ><>\\    after    her   hu>hami' 

which  had  d«  ;Viun 

'  '        -vay  did  not  1 

tc   left    him   liy  liis    father.      lie  fortunate 

11    it,  and   realixe    i  tlie 

i          lution  l.ecame  inevitalde.      With  the  con. . 
:'i>h,  he    almost    di>.ijijieai'ed    from    H 

hut    not    until   hiii:  '.er   had   alri'.i  into 

unds  which   <!id    not   involve   any  re:  .  tliy 

Mi>ii«n  l-etv.een  them  \\' 
—  aliv.iily    h'  in    the    jircvii.i: 

:mu- 
CC  Conway,  t!. 

;  hut  littl.  Qt     '1'lie 

rrturn    of  th-  ff    circumstances    i.t  n  — 

under  impntati  inu* 

Mik   and    ]>assiona:< 

!  it  which 

| 


32  Tin:  . 


own  ability  to  follow,  a:id  to  watcn  tin-  object  of  his  suspicion^ 
was  very  limited  at  this  period.  His  movements  were  governed 
by  his  military  position,  liy  prudence,  and  certain  other  relations 
of  a  more  private  nature,  whrih  shall  he  considered  as  we  pro 
ceed. 

With  no  such  restraints  ?j  there,  and  once  more  safe  from  thr 
dangers  which  had  compelled  him  to  seek  shelter  at  the  h.M;d.- 
of  his  brother  in  the  swamp,  the  future  conduct  of  Edward 
Conway  filled  the  mind  of  Clarence  with  many  apprehensions, 
the  more  strongly  felt,  since  his  falsehood,  in  a  particular  re- 
i,  had  been  revealed  by  his  companion.  Theiv  was,  as  the 
latter  had  phrased  it,  a  weak  or  tender  spot  in  the  bosom  of 
Clarence  Conway,  which  led  him  to  apprehend  everything  of 
evil,  should  Kdward  prove  false  to  certain  pledges  which  he  had 
voluntarily  made,  and  proceed  to  a  dishonorable  use  of  his 
liberty.  But  it  was  a  point  of  honor  with  him  not  to  recede 
from  his  own  pledges;  nor  to  forbear,  because  of  a  revival  of 
jld  suspicions,  the  performances  to  which  they  had  bound  him 
Vet,  in  the  brief  hour  that  followed  the  departure  of  Jack  Ban 
nister,  how  much  would  his  young  commander  have  given,  could 
lie  have  taken  his  counsel  —  could  he  have  kept,  as  a  prisonei 
that  person  whose  passions  he  well  knew,  and  whose  dissimula 
tion  he  feared.  He  thus  nearly  argued  himself  into  the  convic- 
i'rm  —  not  a  difficult  one  at  that  period  —  that  it  was  b's  public 
duty  to  arrest  and  arraign,  as  a  criminal  to  his  country,  the  per 
son  against  whom  the  proofs  were  so  strikingly  presumptive. 

!!••'(•!  r«d   upon  this  subject,  it   seemed  to  astonish  even 
himself,  the  degree  of  criminality  which   he  was   now  willing   t< 
attach  to  his  kinsman's  conduct.     II<-w  was  it  that   he  had  be 
some  so  generally  suspected?       HI>\V   easy,  if  he  were  able,  to 
prove  his  fidelity  ?     Why  was  he  absent  from  the  field  ?     Where 

iad  he  been?  Though  proof  was  wanting  to  show  that  he  had 
oeen  active  in  the  British  cause,  yet  none  was  necessary  to  show 
that  he  had  been  wholly  inactive  ior  the  American.  Mere  than 
once,  in  the  interval  which  followed  from  the.  fn>t  futile  attempts 
to  the  final  and  BT  J  ihe  enemy, 

h;<  !  Clarence  sought  him,  to  stimulate  '.ism,  and  urge  him 

r>  the  field      All  their  conferences  ,vcro  devoted  to  this  obj«--t 


38 

tv  r  \      •  ,£c  in  tlio  controvr 

wiiici!    i:.. tiling    1  ,lt    tlie    punty    of  1  :i>m    and 

uld    have  justified  tV»::i  the  lipr!  :>f  a 

Hut  his  exhoi:  .incuts 

in    barren    places        Ti  ere    were    no    iVu:t>        Kdwanl 

•lived  with    no    Mnall  d*  :;rt  to  conceal  his  n  al  scnti- 

hrii   tin-  ly  of  t!u»  jifople  were  only 

--lad   to  .' 
Subsequently,  when   tl.  :  "lis  liad  falh-ii,  til. 

';  to  cnahlc  him  to  <  'n-n- 

f  i-Mininittal    to    cither.      How  -    done  —  hy    I 

.  or  in  \vhat   manner  —  Clarence  Con-  loss 

to  understand. 

be  M.tr  proceeded,  and  the  inva.-'nui  of  the  colony  I 

•nts  of  the   conflict,  tin  :s  of  the 

country,  the  :.  ••{'  rapid  flight,  from  point  to  p. tint,  of  all 

•  .ihnent,    ser\ed    to    prevent    the    frc-, 
of    the    kinsmen;  —  and    circtin.  to    which    w.- 

:   political 

!"ii    of    the    i-l-ler    l-i-'ither,   contributed    to    take    fn.in    such 
what  little  gratification   they  inij^ht   havr 

"\Vhenevcr   they  -Hd   meet,  the  .  vnce 

to  lind  out  the  mode  «»f  life  which  the 

:   jmrsuc-il,  but  simply  to  assure  himself  t !.  I  and 

:a!>Ir.      T  j.-ct  all  }.'. 

but    ;  'ill   coinprlh'.',  'iitcnt    v.  :. ,-r;,l    but 

8  asMira;  ther,  that  it  was  BO,      Still  there  waa 

'•liarp.1  which  Kdward  ( 

ion    of  that    duty  to   hi  \  ,  which,  U 

withheld   without    di>l. 

ihood  <ir  the  fuh-lity  of  the  eiti/.en.      Clare;.  ding 

to  treachery  this  inactioi. 

r  cause,    lie  knew  thai   I'. .  • 

km.-w  th.  ^esscd  of 
Lo    know  that    a    ! 

ills  character  Ti.                                                     uisc,  and  cou- 


84  THK  scour. 

stantly  engaged  in  some  business,  Edward  Ci.nway  did    lot  nun 
self  seek  to  deny.     AY  hat   that  bu.-'  -  however,  neithei 

tlu-   prayers  nor   the   exhortations  of  Clarence   and   liis  friends 
could    persuade    him    to   declare  ;   while    tin-    discovery  of  a   cir 
cumstance,  l.y  tlie  latter  which  led    him   to  apprehend   tl;< 
tcrference   of  the  former  in  another  field  tlian  that  of  war.  con 
tributed  still  farther  to  estrange  them  from  each  other       E 
n«>w  has  been  sai ?  to  render  the   future   narrative   eaaj  "f 
prehension. 

While,   with   vexing   and   bitter   thoughts,  Clarence    Conway 
awaited  the  progress  of  his  companion,  with  the  fugitive  whom 
he    had   given   into   his   charge,  Supple  Jack  (for    that  was   the 
nom  tie  gucne  conferred  by  his  comrades  upon  the  worthy  wood 
man,  in  compliment   to  certain    (pialitics   of  muscle  which  made 
his  feats  sometimes  remarkable)  penetrated   into  the  iv. 
the   swamp,  with   a   degree   of  diligence  which    by   no   n 
betokened  his  own  disposition  of  mind  in  regard   to   the  particu 
lar  business  upon  which  he  went.     I  Jut  Supple  Jack  was  superioi 
to  all  that  sullenness  which  goes  frowardly  to   tire  task,  because 
it  happens  to  disapprove  it.     As  a  friend,  lie  counselled  without 
fear;   as  a  soldier,  he  obeyed  without  reluctance. 

He  soon  reached  the  little  island  on  the  edge  of  the  Wateree 
river,  where  Clarence  Conway  had  concealed    his  kinsman  from 
the  hot  hunt  which   had    pursued    him  to  the  neighborhood. 
suddenly  and  silently  did    he   send   his   canoe    forward,  that  hci 
prow  struck  the  roots  of  the  tree,  at  wi  itivf 

reclined,  before  he  was  conscious  of  her  approach. 

The  latter  started  hastily  to  his  feet,  and  the  suspicion.- 

-:;ipple  Jack  was  by  no  means  le.-.-ened,  when  he  beheld 
him  thrust  into  his  bosom  a  paper  upon  which  he  had  evidently 
been  writing. 

To  the  passing  spectator  Edward  Conway  might  have  seeme;! 
to  resemble  his  half-brother.      They  were    not   unlike  in 
inspects  —  in  height,  in  muscle,  and  in  si/e.     The  air  of  Clan 

.  have,  been  more  lofty;  but  that  of  Edward  was  p<pial!\ 
firm.  But  the  close,  observer  would  have  concurred  with  the 
woodman,  that  thev  Wfore,  as  kinsman,  utterly  unlike  in  al;. 

othe.i     re.-pccf.       Tlu  "f   ('laiv.icp    Conway    wa» 


bt 

id  open,  lik.-  tha:  .,f  an  tUld 
'.  :unl  I-'.'. 

in    his   glance   ami    movement  : 
.    while    1,,  .    the    sent'  re    prol.,; 

permit  as  imifh  premeditation  :\  '.thh-. 

-mile    ha .1   in  it  a  something  sinister,  which    tailed    to    invite 

the  uiil-  .11  n( 

ft  mind  At  6180  —  of  p.r.d-hmnor —  "fa    heart    showing   its   clrai 
depths    to    the    glances    of  the   sun.      It  \va>  rather  the 
Ituv  of  the  em-haKter,  \  :ile. 

;ch  only  did  our  woodman 

f    Kihvard    (\.n\vay.    B 

leil    up    at    his    approach  —  the    liearly  ofTer  of  the  hand  — 
\\ith    little    a;  v/annth    on    the    part    of  th. 

;nc-e  of  the  iV  l:out  fear. 

with  a  cold  reserve;    his  hand  was  quickly  withdrawn   from   the 
:ch    which    grasped  it  ;   and   the    words    with    whir! 
:    and   answered   th 

uch  only.  itive 

I'idt    the    CfddneSfl  with  which  he  was  en- 
;.      Without  >  ti'ended,  h<>    made    it    tl. 

remark. 

'•  ll.i-  Jack,  1    n  Friends  —  old  frir  ,uld   not 

iner:  'M  a  fa>hioii.     Wherefo..  r,,ld  /    !)•• 

'•n    that  we  were    1 

.Jark  —  playmatai  i'"i-  BO  many  happ\ 

:i"!      1  hain't   :  anything,  Kdwar-i  '  .that 

tO  ivmemher  ;"    ivplied    ihr  ITOOdlDJ 

;lly    the    reproach    of  his   coii)paiii..n.      "  Hut  we    ain't    ; 
and    pl.iymat,  .ward    Cmiway.       \V«- 

• 

us   that    know  with  whom    , 
without    line: 
h." 
"  '1  .lack  ;    hu- 

fricn.hs.      \\'r 
one  another." 


86  THE  SCOUT. 

This  was  said  with  an  eager  insinuating  manner,  and  the  hand 

: y  was  a  second  time  extended  to  take  that  of  the  other 

But,  without  regarding  the  movement,  Supple  Jack  replied  with 

a  Hunt  resoluteness  of  demeanor,  which  would  most  effectually 

rebuffed  any  less  flexible  spirit :  — 

"  I  reckon  we  a'n't,  Edward  Conway,  and  it's  of  no  use  to 
bent  about  the  bush  to  find  out  what  to  say.  Times  change  and 
we  change,  and  it's  onnatural  to  expect  to  keep  the  same  face 
in  all  weathers.  I  know  there's  a  mighty  great  change  in  ir.e, 
and  I'm  thinking  there's  the  same  sort  of  change  going  on  in 
a'inost  everybody.  I  used  to  be  a  quiet  peaceable  sort  of  per 
son,  that  wouldn't  hurt  a  kitten  ;  and  now  I'm  wolfish  more  than 
once  a  week,  and  mighty  apt  to  do  mischief  when  I  feel  so.  I 
used  to  believe  that  whatever  a  pair  of  smooth  lips  said  to  me 
was  true,  and  now  I  suspicions  every  smooth  speaker  I  meet,  as 
if  he  wor  no  better  than  a  snake  in  the  grass.  'Tain't  in  my 
natur  to  keep  the  same  face  and  feclin's,  always,  any  more  than 
the  weather,  and  I  tell  you  plainly  I'm  quite  another  sort  cf 
person  from  the  boy  that  used  to  play  with  you,  and  Clarence 
Conway,  long  time  ago." 

"  Ah,  Jack,  but  you  h.iv'n'*  changed  to  him  —  you  are  the 
same  friend  to  Clarence  Conwa/  as  ever." 

"Yes,  bless  God  for  all  his  marcies,  that  made  me  love  the 
boy  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  kept  the  same  heart  in  me  after  lie 
came  to  be  a  man.  I  a'n't  ashamed  to  say  that  I  love  Clarence 
the  same  as  ever,  since  he  never  once,  in  all  my  dealings  with 
him,  hoy  and  man,  ever  gin  me  reason  to  distrust  him.  lie's 
mighty  like  an  oak  in  two  ways  —  he's  got  the  heart  of  one,  and 
there's  no  more  bend  in  him  than  in  an  oak." 

The  cheek  of  the  fugitive  was   flushed   as  ho  listened    to  this 
,  Ic  and  earnest  language.    lie  was  indiscreet  enough  to  press 
the,  matter  farthei 

"Hut  why  should  you  distrust  me,  Jack  Bannister?  Y<m 
have  known  me  quite  as  long  as  you  have  known  Clarence,  we 
have  played  as  much  together — " 

"  Ay  !"  exclaimed  the  other  abruptly,  and  with  a  startling  en 

v.    "  But  we  hav'n't  fou't  together,  and  bled  together,  and 

"lo.pt  together    and   starved   together    Kdward   CJomvav 


THK  -Tin:  rrcrnvK.  37 

hav':       '  i-ly  MS  •   laivnce  t<>  COmi  vour  country 

.  ved  in  liis  company,  and  run,  ami   fou't,  and  1  . 

iiiin  in  a-'  :i  tin*  fir  I 

run.  and    :  the  la>t    to  frel  afraid,  and    to   «h<>w 

that  lie  was  hungry.      Km-  nine  months  we.  had   hnt  one  hlanket 

hetween  us  ami  that  was  halt   Limit  up  from  sleeping   too  d 

;•>  tin-  allies  one  odd  night  last  (  Miristmas.      It's  sich  things  that 

friemK    from  the    heginning,  and    it's   sich    things   that 

us  friends  till  now.      1  MT  to  remem- 

and  me  war  never   iViends,  Edward  (.'«niway,  even 

war    playmates;    and    the    reason  was    I    always   mis- 

•u.      I>«'n't    think  I  mean  to  hurt  yOUT   teclin^s   hy  ti'l- 

y«>u  tin1    trnih.      You're    a    BOH    «.f  ]'ii-Mi--r.  you   see,  and   it 

won!  ,:eel  for  me  t««  BRJ  anything  that  mouirht 

ad  I  ax  pardon  if  I  dors;    hut  a-  I  tell  you,  I  mis- 

.  and   I  can't  help  telling  you  that 

I  in:  i  to  thr   Oend.      V..u  ha'n't    -nt    the  sort  o*  wav>    I 

like,  ami  \\hen  t';    •  'r's   no  use  to  strain  one's   natur' 

to  make  a  liking   Kenrern  frclings   that    don't    seem  to   tit.      !'•.•- 

i  hev'  a  had    standing   in  the  country.      The.-e   im 
J>utl-  ':i  you  hy  an-'tluM'  name,  and   it  looks   m:_ 

Mi-picious  wh< •:.  •  -ider  that  none  of  the  wliigs  have 

.tnvthing  t««  >ay  in  y«>ur  hrhalf." 

"Onethii  tain,  John  Bannister,"  replied  the  fugitive* 

-  -ur   ancient    hluni: 
^  ind  afl  plainly  as  evc'i-." 

"  I  r-M  k«'ii  its  alv.  "  \va-  thi- 

:h"i;uli  you  d"  me  inji;-.t!cr.  and  you, 
Merons.      It  is  unfortunate  fur  me   that,  !"•  little 

time  l-uig<-r  I  must  suhmit  to  he  distrusted.      The  time  will  C 

P,  and    II  . .  \\  hen  y^u  u  ill  .  . 

ith  dmilit  or  Mi-jiiri-.n." 

••WeD,  1  j  tO  y.'Ur'n  in  that  matter;   hnt,  till  that 

linn-  :     r.vard  Coiiv.-ay.   I    nioiight    a^    will    s 

ym  that  ,,/  t'lit-nds.  and  I  don't  think  it  'ill  make  u- 

M  ev.  ::     !   ;.  why 

—  I    know  that    yu're    no  triend    to  ( 'larrncc,  for   all    he's   dom1 
ror  you." 


88  THF 

"Ha,  Barmiste.  — hmv  —  what  know  von?" 

"Enough  to  make  me  say  what  I'm  >aying.  Now,  you  heat 
me,  jest  once,  f>r  the  lirst  and  last  timo  that  \  may  ever  have  .-. 
chance  r»t'  letting  you  see  my  mind.  I  know  enough  to  know 
that  you've  heen  a-wi>rking  agin  Clarence,  ami  1  suspicions  you 
ha'n't  done  working  agin  him.  Now.  tliis  is  to  let  you  onder- 
stand  that  Jack  I>;mni>ter  has  nara  an  eye  in  his  head  thai 
don't  watch  tor  his  i'riend  and  agin  his  enemy:  and  I  ttdl  yon 
all  in  good  uatur',  and  without  meaning  anv  malice,  that,  \\hat- 
ever  harm  you  do  to  him.  that  same  harm  I'll  douhle  and  trehle 
upon  you,  though  1  wait  and  watch,  out  in  the  worst  weather, 
and  Avalk  on  bloody  stumps,  to  do  it.  I  suspicions  voii,  Kdward 
Conway,  and  1  gi\e  you  fair  warning.  I'll  he  at  your  lied.-, 
like  a  dog  that  never  harks  to  let  the  world  know  which  wav 
he's  running." 

••  A  lair  warning  enough,  Banni>ter,"  replied  the  fugitive  with 
recovered  composure,  and  a  moderate  show  of  dignity.  "To 
:it  your  language,  at  this  time,  would  he  almost  as  i'ooli>h  as 
to  endeavor  to  prove  that  your  suspicions  of  me  arc  groundless. 
1  shall  not  leel  mys;-lf  less  maidy  or  less  innocent  hy  forhearing 
to  do  either." 

"  Well,  that's  jest  as  you  tliink  propel,  Kdward  Comvay  ;  I 
must  ax  your  pardon  agin  lor  saving  rough  tiling^  to  a  man  that's 
a  sort  of  j.risoner.  hut  I'm  thinking  it's  always  the  cleanest  play 
to  speak  the  truth  when  you're  forced  to  it.  You've  heen  talk 
ing  at  iii"  HCC  the  time  I  helped  Clarence  to  git  vou  into 
the  swamp,  as  it'  I  had  heen  >ome  old  friend  of  your'n  ;  and  it 
went  airin  mr  to  stand  <jniet  and  hear  you  all  the  lime,  and  not 
set  vim  right  on  that  matter.  Now.  a>  the  thing's  dune,  with 
your  leave  we'll  say  no  more  ahout  it.  My  orders  from  the 
colonel  war  to  carrv  you  out  of  the  suamp;  M>  you'll  make 
ready  as  soon  as  you  can,  for  there's  precious  little  of  daylight 
left  for  a  mighty  dark  sort  (({'navigation. 

"  And  where  is  he  —  where,  do  you  take  me  /"  demanded  tin 
fugitive. 

"  Well,  it's  not   in  mv  orders   to  let  you  know  any  more    tlia- 
I've,  told  you  :   only  I  mav  say  you  don't  go  out    exactly  whe 
you  came  in." 


-aid  \\iili  thai  air  of  r:t   which  ampi 

iman    that    his  l.lunt    freedoms  1,:,,1   1,,.,.M  s.-iinbly  t'.  it.      !!.• 

united  only  it  the  dfetrosl  \\hi.-h  .-;  of  the  fugitive  seemed 

to    i  !  the  liauirlitin-  manner   :,|.j.« -an  ,1 

.'•n  in  the  :  [<  ,n. 

!."  Iu-  inuttcn-d  lialf  aloud  aa  In-  j-i- 

.!.!«•  that   he  should 
•dd  like  him  the  lit-it.-r  if  lit-  \\.mld 

'hr<.  :iid   hack  all   his  -ly  (Inin-x  at  the  inu/. 

1.    Hut  I  have  no  ]»atiVn«v  u  iih  anything  that  looks  lik.- 

•  .iniirli  to  he  dcd-inu:  \\-\\\\  an  enemy.  li-.:t  to  dodire  \\lnn  a 
friend's  Inikin. 

a  ^  hite  man.  :ur\  ami  don't  sham.'  a  black 

but  —  well,  you're  ready.  Mr.  Kduard  '.'     .JeM  tal  &1  in 

the  bottom,  and  keep  stiddy.      It'<  a  tiekli^h  sort  of  navigation  v. 
B  Q8t  and  OUT dug-OUt  an'1  mu<-h   more   heavier  th;:: 
ibuh.      She'll  .swim  i  :  Idy.  but  i  bdul 

•vim  tor  it.     Stiddv, 

dy  —  all  riirht  !  "  \\a>  the  calm,  low  response  of  tl. 

•<•«!  throii-li   tl,,.  ia-iine. 


iO  THE   SCOUT. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THi:    KIN.SMKN. 

TIIK  boat,  under  tlie  adroit  management  of  Supple  .l 
?oon  readied  tlie  shore  where  Clarence  Comvay  awaited  them. 
Standing  side  by  side,  there  was  little  ohvious  difference  het \veen 
the  persons  of  the  kinsmen.  They  were  both  equally  tali. 
strongly  made  and  symmetrical  —  each  had  the.  same  «rener;:l 
cast  of  countenance  —  the  hair  was  not  unlike;  the  complex!. >. 
of  Edward  was  darker  than  that  of  Clarence.  The  difference 
between  them,  physically,  if  not  so  obvious,  was  yet  singularly 
marked  and  substantial.  There  was  that  in  the  expression  of 
their  several  laces,  which,  to  the.  nice  physiognomical  critic,  did 
not  inaptly  illustrate  the  vital  differences  in  the  two  charar 
as  they  will  be  found  to  display  themselves  in  the.  progress  of 
this  narrative.  The  forehead  and  chin  of  the  former  were  much 
smaller  than  those  of  the  younger.  The  cheek-bones  wore 
higher;  the  lips,  which  in  Clarence.  Tonway  were  usually  com 
pressed,  giving  an  air  of  decision  to  his  mouth  which  approached 
severity,  were,  in  the  case  of  Edward,  parted  into  smiles,  which 
were  only  too  readily  and  too  easily  evoked,  not,  sometimes,  t< 
awaken  doubts  of  their  sincerity  in  the  mind  of  the,  spectator. 
S-.me  well-defined  lines  about  the  upper  lip  and  corners  of  the 
mouth,  which  Minified  cares  and  anxieties,  ten  led  still  more  to 
make  doubtful  the  prompt  smile  of  the  wearer.  The  dillereiice 
of  live  years  —  for  that  period  of  time  lay  between  their  several 
ages  —  had  added  a  few  wrinkles  to  the  cheeks  and  brow  of  the 
elder,  which  nowhere  appeared  upon  the  f-ice  of  the  jrom 
A  conscience  free  from  reproach,  h'.d  probably  saved  him  from 
tokens  which  arc  quite  as  frequently  the  proofs  of  an  ill-ordered 
life  as  of  age  and  stifle;  ing.  Some  other  leading  ditVerences  be 
tween  the  two  might  be  traced  out  by  a  close  observer,  and  not 
the  least  prominent  of  these  exhibited  itself  at  the  moment  of 


Tin:   KINSMEN.  41 

the;  .  in  tlu>  OVCr-nctcd  and  extn-im 

;itive   kinsman.      His  .sweet  soft  tones  .if  con 

ciliatiou,  his  .studied    gentleness   «-f  accent,  and   the  extreme  hu 
mility  of  ;re —  all    appeared    in   large   contrast  with  the 
-iniple,  unaffected    demeanor  of  the   younger.      The  feelin. 
Clarence  were   all   too  e,iii;e>t    f<>r  mannerism  of  ,".nv  sort;    and 
motioning  .lack   r>anni>!er  aside,  ]:e  met  his  half-hiother  with  ail 

:  ill  of  direct   pnrpo.se,  and  a  keenly-awakened  COnsciotl 
of  tl.  ,d>ts  renewed  in  his  mind  upon  that  mvstery  which 

;•  like  a  \\  all  hetween  them. 

It  was  ditlicul:  !      ,\  ai  d  ( '..nw;iy  was  approach- 

l.im,  \fbetbcr  surn ••.-,-  or  aii^er   predominated   111   his  counte- 
Blll    :he    tace    of  the    fugitive,    heained  with   smiles,  and 
hi.-  hand-  ttded.      'i'he  hand  remained  untaken,  hou, 

and  the  i-ye  «.f  the  elder  hr.it her  shrunk  from  the  encounter  with 
the    .searching  ••!'  Clarence.     A   slight    suflusion   passed 

heek,  and  there  \\  a>  a  tremor  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke, 
itnral   to   the  resentment  which  he  inu.st  have 
felt,  hut  which  h<:  >howed  im  pdsitinn  to  declare. 

•  •hi  to  me,  Clarence  .'      What  now  shotdd  awaken  your 

disj-'.  haved  nobly  in  this  bud]  •  uot 

send  i.  m  in  an:. 

"  1  have  hehaved  ,,idy  as  a  l.rother,  Edward  ('<»nw,iy.    Would 
you  could  feel   like  one!      You  have  again   deceived  i. 
•ITU,  accusin.ir  answer. 

y,  and  the  eye  of  the  speaker 

!   iVoni    t!  ..-«  of  his  kinsman,  and  his  lips 

^hitene..  :    ••  h-iw,  Clarence  —  how  ha\      | 

're<l   me,  »,n  your  honor,  that  you  had 
Middleton   since   my  last    conference  wit!: 
I  n«.w  know  that  you  have  been  a:   '  ; 

ks." 

c-unnin-  .nne  to  the  relief  of 

the    accused,    and    Kduard    ('.in-  '!«••!    himself  of  one   of 

which    none   hut   the   mean  spirit  IB  ever 
will;; 

"  \  en   !::;•     i   iareiice  ;  l>ut  I  diil  not   \/(A  i1«»!-;'   in  goini;  there 


42  TMK    SCOTT. 

T  happened  to  l>t'  in  the  neighborhood  at  nightfall,  and  saw  110 
good  reason  for  avoiding  a  go.,d  supper  and  a  comfnrtahle  bed. 
which  I  knew  the,  hospitalities  <>f  Brier  Park  would  always 
atTord  me.  I  d'ul  Lr<>  there  —  that  is  true  —  saw  Flora  and  all 
the  family  —  hut  it  is  nevertheless  equally  true,  that  in  going 
1  did  not  si'ch  her." 

"  But  you  withheld  the  fact  of  your  being  there,  Kdward 
Cnjiwav,  and  left  the  impression  on  my  mind  that  you  had  not 
seen  her." 

"I  did  not  seek  to  convey  such  an  impression,  Clarence;  i 
simply  spoke  to  the  point,  ami  spoke  with  literal  exactitude." 

"  You  have  a  legal  proficiency  in  language,"  was  the  sarcastic 

.neiit.      "But    for   this    I    should    probably   have    heard   the 

whole  truth.     AVhat   g.>od  reason  was  there  why  you  should  be 

so  partial  in  your  revelations.'     AVhy  did  you  not  tell  me  all?" 

"  To  answer  you  frankly,  Clarence,"  replied  the  other,  with 
the  air  of  a  man  unbuttoning  his  bosom  to  the  examination  of 
the  world  — "  I  found  you  jealous  and  suspicious  on  this  subject 
—  in  just  the  mood  to  convert  the  least  important  circumstance 
into  a  cause  of  doubt  and  dissatisfaction  ;  and,  therefore,  1  with 
held  from  you  a  fact  which,  however  innocent  in  itself,  and  un 
worthy  of  consideration,  I  was  yet  well  aware,  in  your  mood  of 
mind,  would  assume  an  importance  and  character  which  justly  it 
could  not  merit.  Besides,  Clarence,  there  were  so  many  sub 
jects  of  far  more  interest  to  /////  mind,  of  which  we  had  no 
speech,  that  I  did  not  care  to  dwell  upon  the  matter  longer  than 
was  neces.-ary.  You  forget,  Clarence,  that  1  had  not  seen  you 
for  months  before  this  meeting." 

The  suspicions  of  the,  younger  were  in  no  respect  disarmed  01 
lessened  by  this  explanation.  Kdward  Cunway  had  somewhat 
overshot  his  mark  when  he  spoke  BO  -light  ingly  "I  a  subject  t" 
which  Clarence  attached  so  high  an  importance.  The  l.iller 
could  not  believe  in  the  indiil'erence  which  the  other  expressed 
in  reference  t"  one  so  dear  to  himself  as  Flora  Middlcton;  and, 
in  due  decree  as  he  felt  the  probability  that  so  much  merit  as  1m 
eisteemed  that  maiden  to  .  fail  to  awaken  the 

tender  passion  in  all  who  beheld  her,  BO  was  he  now  inclined  to 
c"iifiider  the  declaration  of  hia  kinsman  as  an  hypocrisy  equally 


48 

!lv,  th.it  l.c  .should  uei- 

•her    deeeixr    his  judgment  inn    hi>  watchfuhi' 

while  he  himself  forbore  reproa  \\hich.  indeed, 

nt.  would  have  seemed  ungenerous  ami  u: 
•.  ould    endeavor  to  maintain  a  surrcillurr  ;;s  rival'b 

••incuts,  which  would  at  -uch  oi'  his  machinations 

•  otherwise   ten«i   to   l.eguilo  from    himself   the  aiV.-ctioiu 

•  •loved   ohject.     T!..  van!  Con 

natural    change   of  the   subject,  of  whicli  Clarence 
•ju'u-kly  availed  himself. 

remind    me.   Edward    Conway,  that,  thougli   we,    have 
spoken   ot    various   and    inte:e^tin^   subjects,   you    have    ffa(    yet 

i    me  the    iiii'oitiiation   which    I    sought,  on   any.      The 
mo.st  impiirtant  to  hoth  of  u>.  lvi\vard  Conway  —  to  our  fat! 
family,  to  the  name  \ve  hear,  ami  the  position  we  should  equally 
.in,  as  well   to  the   past    a*   to   the  future,  in  t;  our 

country  —  is  that  of  your   present    puhlic  course.      On  that  E 
jert  you  have,   told   me   nothing,     of  your  position  in  thi-  . 
tlict  1  know  nothing;   and  what   little  reaches  my  ears  from  the 
painfully   unfiM.rahle.      Nav,   nion-,    K-iwanl 
'        A  ay.  I    am   constrained   to  think.    :    d    1    Hty  it    in  hitte: 
and  >adne.ss,  that  what   you   have   said,  in   ivp'  u-nt 

D   this   point,  intended 

rath-  e   than  to  answer   my  demands.      1  can  i 

:    the  conviction   that   you    1 

with  as  careful  a  suppression  of  the  whole  truth,  as  this 
"he:  re    me  the  assurance  \\illi    regard  to  Fl-ira  Mi- 

ton." 

A  IIOAVJ  el  '-.'i  cUurkened,  th«n:.     •  men!  onl\-.  I 

"   riierc  are   son.'  prejudu  .  :    me  in  v«mr 

mind.  Clarence,  or   it    w-.uhl    n«'t    he   ditlicult    ! 

h"\\    1   ]  natural!;.  j  which  should 

•nil    yet    i  •  •  -d   in   no  which  would 

cither  hurt  my  own.  or  the  h 

•'  '1  bill    1    do    DO(    deilj  -    K-l\\ard,    !  it    may 

<cem  ih..t   Rti  !i  m  cief*.  ->hon!  iiehl  from  an  only  hn'V 

:h    Vou   l.a\ 


44  TIIK   SCOUT. 

prudence  you  have  never  found  oa  Hut  1  do 

not  ask  for  any  of  your  secrets.  I  slu.uld  sn.rn  myself  for  evei 
did  I  feel  a  single  desire  to  know  tliat  which  you  have  any  good 
reason  to  withhold  from  inc.  It  is  only  that  I  may  defend  you 
from  injustice  —  from  slander  —  from  the  suspicions  of  the  true 
and  the  worthy  —  that  I  would  lie.  fortified  by  a  just  know!. 
of  your  objects  and  pursuits.  Surely,  there  can  be  no  good  ica 
son  to  withhold  this  knowledge,  if  what  you  do  is  sanctioned  l.\ 
propriety  and  the  cause  for  which  we  are,  all  in  arms." 

"It  is  sanctioned  by  the  cause  for  which  we  are  in  arms,"  re 
plied  the  other,  hastily.  "Have  I  not  assured  you  that  I  am  no 
traitor  —  that  my  fidelity  to  my  country  is  not  less  pure  and  per 
fect  than  your  own  ?  The  slanderer  will  defame  and  the  credu 
lous  will  believe,  let  us  labor  as  \ve  may.  1  take  no  heed  of 
these  —  1  waste  no  thought,  on  such  profitless  matters ;  and  you, 
Clarence,  will  save  yourself  much  pain,  and  me  much  annoying 
conjecture,  if  you  will  resolve  to  scorn  their  consideration  with 
myself,  and  cast  them  from  your  mind.  Give  them  no  concern. 
Believe  me  to  be  strangely  and  awkwardly  placed;  but  no* 
criminal  —  not  wilfully  and  perversely  bent  on  evil.  Is  not 
this  enough?  What  more  shall  I  say  i  Would  you  have  me  — 
your  elder  brother — bearing  the  same  name  with  yourself — de 
clare  to  you,  in  words,  that  I  am  not  the  black-hearted,  blood 
thirsty,  reckless  monster,  which  these  wide-mouthed  creatures, 
these  blind  mouths  and  b)!ter  enemies,  proclaim  me?" 

"  But  why  are  these  men  of  Butler  your  enemies  ?  They  are 
not  the  enemies  of  your  country." 

"  I  know  not  that,"  said  the  other  hastily. 

"Your  doubt  does  them  gross  injustice,"  replied  Clarencu 
Conway,  with  increased  earnestness;  "thev  are  known  men  — 
tried  and  true  —  and  whatever  may  be.  their  •  and  vio 

lence,  these  are  owing  entirely  to  the  monstrous  provocation 
they  have  received.  How  can  it  be,  Kdward,  that  you  have 
roused  these  men  to  such  a  degree  of  hostility  again>t  yourself? 
They  bear  to  yon  no  ordinary  bate  —  they  speak  <>f  you  in  no 
ordinary  language  of  denunciation — " 

"My  dear  Clarence,"  said  the  other,  "you  seem  to  forget  all 
the  while,  that  they  never  spoke  of  me  at  all  —  certainly  not  by 


con. 


THK  KIN  -•:;  \ 

name.      They    know    me    not  — they    have    Ul 
founded   me  with   another.      Even   if   1    irere   fod< 

whom    they   hate,  to   answer  your   <jue>tions    would    be    DO 
<".•'•  well    mi-ht    I    undertake    to    .how    why 

-rinu-  and  injustice   in   the  world,  as  why  there   a:  .•  and 

These   are   plants  that  will  grow,  like  joi: 

nd  work  at  them  as  you  m 

"  1*    >s    iieverthele.-  Kdward,"   v, . 

mu.sin-  answer  of  the   still   un~ 
how  any  >ef  of  men  should  make  such  a  inista 

"Tl:  «*   thin-  of  all   is.  that  my  own   brother  should 

think  it  BO.       Why  ,!.  ,uld  you?" 

-M.uld   I  n,.t  / 

••  Wheivf,, iv  .'  —  You   can   not  believe  that  1  am,  indeed,  what 
they   alle-e   me   to   be— the    chief   of   the   Black    R  -that 

dreaded   monster  —  half-man,  half-dra-on  — u  ]„,  days   ;l,r  lin.n 
su  allows  the  children,  and  ilies  oil'  with  the  datiuek       Ha!  h/i 
na!     Jteally,  Clarence,  1  am  afraid  you  are  as  credul 
twenty-live  as  you  were  at  : 

"  It    i.s   not   tktU   1    beh,  If   i    , 

i.ame    .,f  my   father,  which   you   bear,  had   not   Bayed 
But,  why,  a-ain,  aiv  you  suspected  .'      Suspicion   folio, 
tions   that    are    not    doubtful  — it    doj 

^htforward  — it    haunts   no    character,  the   co;  .  i,icdi 

has  1  een  direct  and  uiMMjuivocal  I      My  unhappinrss   is  tha: 
have  made   your>.-lf  liable    to    be    confounded  with  the  crii. 
because  you  have   not    been    seen   with    the    innocent.      N 
not  \\itli  OB,  and   the   natural   preMtmptioii   is  that   you   are  with 

our  enemi 

"  J  >li"iil.l  not  care  much  for  t!  .Kble  of  the>,-  eOU 

it  that  you  should   echo   their   slanders  — 
YOU  should  join  in  the  h: 

'''hi-  ,11  with  the  air  of  mortified  j 

^0  supposed   the   natural   emotion   of  every  honor..  •.  as- 

by  the  doubts  of  friend  or  kin- 

"I    d,,   not— all    I    demand  that   confidence  which 

would  enalde  me  to  silence 

"Afl  Well   attempt    to   .sileiic,-   the 


4<>  THE    SCOTT. 

be  idle;    ;iii'!,  if  made,  where  should  u  e  hr^in  '     Wli;it  suspirior 

inu>r    1   !  r-t  dissipate  '.      Whose  poisonous  hreath  must   I  lirst  en 

Tin.-,  story  of  the  1'ilack  Riders,  fur  example — do  you 

really   1  arence,  in    tin-    alleged    existence   of  this   ban- 

•'  I  do!  —  I  can  not  believe  otherwi.-e." 

'•  Impossible  !      1    iloulu    't   wholly.      These   dastardly    fellows 
ot    1  Sutler   have    fancied    half  the  terrors  they  descrihe.      Their 
I'.ed  their  foes,  and    I    make    no    (jnestion   they 
have  slandered  as  civil   a   set   of  em  ever  had  a  pi. 

sitni.il  sanction  f'»r  throat-cutting,  Really,  Clarence,  the  very 
extrava^ano  re  yon  from  hcliel';  and 

1  must  say,  if  you  do  believe,  that  a  little  nioie  of  the  1  n.therly 
1  ve  \vhirh  yon  jn-,.fe.s«;.  should  keep  yon  lV«mi  snj.jiosin_ur  me  t«. 
!•:•  tl  ii'Mii  they  .u'ivf  .-urh  horriil  traits  in 

the  tdiief  of  this  lihu-k  handitti.  My  vi-ry  ajijiearaiu-e  —  in 
our  VMith,  Claiei,  .'red  not  very  much  unlike  your  own 

—  should  save  me,  iV.Mii  the^e  suspicious.  See!  —  my  >kin  is 
rather  fair  than  dark;  and  as  for  the  mass  of  hair  which  is  said 
to  dec-  rate  the  chin,  and  the  Mark  shock  which  surrounds  the 

of   tin-    I'onnidaMe.   outlaw  —  none  who   looks  at  my  vi 
will  fancy  that  K.-au  c<.uld  ever  claim  me  fur  his  kinsman.      l\iy 
vanity,  indeed,  is  (piite,  as  much  touched  as  my  honor,  ("laience, 

'uld  suffer  such  cruel  mirepresentib- 

And  ••;•  eoiu-luded  this  rhapsody,  h  Menly 

wainlereil  from  th.it  of  the  person  he  addressed,  ami  rested  upon 

l-elt  which    encircled   II'IN   own  hody  —  a    l.elt    of  plain    hlack 

.-(1  l.y  an  ordinary  iron  huckle.  painted  of  the  same 

r,  and  freshly  varnished.      An  uneasy  upward  -lance,  at  this 

untered  that  of  his  kinsman,  wl  had    evi- 

•    .'    .  ••         .  own,  to  the  examination  uf  the  sann-  ohjrct. 

d  that  the  moral  cliasin 

ti  liad  alwavs  cxi>led  hetween  their  M>uK.  had  yawned  \\idei 
ad   farth.-r   than    before.      There  was   a   mutual    in-: 

no  mutual  sympathy.     Tin-  di>i|uiet  of  the  one 

ami  the  doubts  of  the  other,  were  reawakened  ;    and  though  nei 

•  th  umlcr.-tood  the  gad  sen  diillcnlties  of  fnrthei 


rai  v.  47 

them,     Ai;  tin  .   \  •'••  o,  at  -: 

tin-  liicli  it  iliil  not  h"\vcver  relitve  <>f  ,-u:  .  gain 

ful  |  n  hieh  the 

.      The    impatience    <.f    tin-    worthy    woodman 
l.n-u^lit  him  suilicient!  . 
'  !er  kinsman. 

luntly,  "iflon^  talking  can  mak, 

d'ar,   then    it  ml    Con  way,   (hat    the- 

'.lily  belie. 1  y..n.      What   y«u   s  ~k:u 

.iplexion,  and  all   that.      Xaterally,  y«»u  lia'n't 
no  p.  .  and  your  .shock,  as  it  stands,  \v..uld:. 

' 

ln-lp  natur  in  sich  a  matter.     I' 
of  liviii'  men,  and  liviii' 
in  the  sculps  .»f  .lead   j 

.  when,  naterally    tlu-y   liad   n»n. 
the   same  th' 

hearn  sjti-ak  «»f  th>  -aid  that  ti  • 

al  that  t!  .-iiid  the  1  • 

and  .  ii;^  t«»  the  c..mj,;,i;;. 

<>i'  ten    .  — the  time  you  may  reniei; 

Min  }"U  ;  •    fn»m   th.  s  of 

1  ''  —  thai    •'  L6   ground,  \shen,  what 

should  I  ha]i|irn  t<>  see  in  the  l»n>ad  track  hut 
fli-'n-  -:lj»s  —  the  sctilp  i'or  the  head  ;uid  the  M-nlj»  t'-r  the 

cliin,  and   an..thrr  sculp   that    d 

'-ut  the  mouth,  though  it  must 
ha'  i  -icklin-  «.f  the 

8CC,  if   I   knows  anxthln^  of  human 
.!  tlie  up; 

•  in  all  tl.- 

a    little     : 

Mr.  ! 

't  find  it  so  hard  to  l,dieve  that  a  fair-skinned  man  : 

a  lilnrk   sculp  and  a  mighty  dark   compl.  atli 

he    the 
think,  )•«•: 
but    n.s   .sure    as   a   gun.   i 


48  THE   SCOUT. 

see  'em,  on  the  broad  path  down  t«>  tin-  AYateree;  and  I  reckon 
that's  a  strong  sarcumstance,  by  itself,  to  make  me  think  they 
Hras  made  for  something,  and  for  somebody  to  wear.  Hut  that's 
only  my  notion.  1  reckon  it'-  Mough,  in  sich  time 

the^e,  for  every  man  to  find  a  different  way  of  thinking  when 
he  likes  to." 

The  articles  described  by  the  woodman  were  drawn  from  his 
bosom  as  he  spoke,  and  displayed  before  the  kinsmen.  Tho 
eyes  of  Clarence,  now  doubly  sharpened  by  suspicion, 
L-eemed  disposed  to  pierce  into  the  very  soul  cf  Edward  Conway 
Hi-,  however,  withstood  the  analysis  with  all  the  calm  fortitude 
of  a  martyr,  lie  examined  the  several  articles  with  the  man 
ner  of  one  to  whom  they  were  entirely  new  and  strange;  and 
when  he  had  done,  quietly  remarked  to  the  deliberate  wood 
man,  that  he  had  certainly  produced  sufficient  evidence  to  satisfy 
him,  if  indeed  he  were  not  satisfied  before,  "  that  a  man,  disposed 
to  adopt  a  plan  of  concealment  and  disguise,  could  rcudily  find, 
or  make,  the  materials  to  do  so." 

"  But  this,  Clarence,"  said  he,  turning  to  his  kinsman,  "  this 
has  nothing  to  do  with  what  I  was  saying  of  myself.  It  does 
not  impair  the  assurance  which  I  made  you — " 

Clarence  Conway,  who  had  been  closely  examining  the  arti 
cles,  without  heeding  his  brother,  demanded  of  the  woodman 
why  he  had  not  shown  them  to  him  In  , 

"  Well,  colonel,  you  see  1  didn't  find  them  ontil  the  second 
day  after  the  chase,  when  you  sent  me  up,  to  scout  along  the 
hills." 

"  Enough  !  —  Bring  up  the  horses." 

"  Both  ?"  asked  the  woodman,  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Yes  !      I  will  ride  a  little  way  with  my  brother." 

The  horses  were  brought  in  a  few  moments   from    the    ' 
of  a  gorge  which  ran  between  the  hills  at  the.  foot  of  which  the) 

stood.    The  promptness  of  the  woodman's  movementa  pre. 

ed   mucli    conversation,   meanwhile,  between    the   kinsmen  .- 
did    either   of  them    appear    to    desiiv    it.      The  SOU]  of  Glatt 

full  of  a   new  source  of  disquiet   and  dread  ;    while  the   ap 
prehensions  of  Edward  Conway,  if  entirely  of  another  sort, 
yet  too  active  to  permit  of  ••••adv  speech.     As  the  ki:;& 


1HK    KIN-MI  V  49 

in.*!,  to    mount.    Supple    Jack     i  OH) 

iiis  superior  aside. 

••  Well,  what's  the  matter  now  /"  demanded  ( Man-in-*-  impatient 
!y.     "Speak  Ojiiiekly,  Jack  —  the  storm  IB  at  hand  —  the  r. 
already  falling." 

"  Yes,  and  tliaf's  another  reason  for  your  taking  to  the  swamp 
ag'in.     In  three  hours  the  hills  will    tell  a  story  of  every 
:hat  your  horse  i*  taking" 
"  Well,  what  of  th 

"  Why,  matter  enough,  if  the  tories  are  on   the   look  out   for 
Inch    I'm    dul. '(.us   is    p:vtty  much    the   case.      I   didn't   al- 
'her  like  the  signs  I  fell  in  with  on  the  last  scout,  and 
1-e  that  Edward  I'-ur.1.  ay  is  one  of  these  Black  Riders,  the: 
good  reason  to  believe  they'll  he  looking  after  him   in   the  place 
where  they  lost  him." 

"Pshaw,  no  more  of  this,"  said  the  other  angrily. 
"  Well,  Clarence,  you  may  'pshaw'  it  to  me  as  much  as  j 

-e,  only  I'm  mighty  sartain,  in  your  secret   heart,  you  don't 
'pshaw1  it  to  yourself.     It's  a  strange-  busino  1  it's 

dde  in  me,  to  think  so  —  seeing  what  I  1. 
and   knowing  what    I    know.     NOW  that   Butler's  i 

•in   thick   as  grasshoppers   in    all 

this  country  ;   and  it's  my  notion,  if  you  will  go.  th.  mid 

•  a  .-harp  eye  in  your  head,  and  let  your   dogs   hark   at    the 

danger        I'm   duh'oiis   you're   running    a    mi 
risk    on    this   side    of  the    Wateree.       There's    no    telling 
where.    Marion    is  jist    at    this  time;    and    there's   a    rumor   that 
on    the    road    to  jino    Rawdon.      So'  |    \ 

leave  ( 'amden,  and  call  in  h 

Si\  and  Augusta;   and  if  so,  thi-  ry  pa/it  •  f  the  country 

where  there's  the  l>e>t  i-han-  :ing  him   and    all    - 

[wouldn't    riile   far,  Clarence ;    and    I'd    ride    fast;    and     1 
hack  llesb  could   bring   me.      Sorrel    is    in    full 

blood  now,  and  he'll  show  the  ch-aue^t    heels    in    li 
the  civillest  axing  of  the  spur." 

"  You  are  getting  as  timi-:.  i 
the  youth  kindly,  and  wkh    an   en'ort  at 
not  successful.      "A  ming   upon    \ 


60  THE   SCOUT. 

the  campaign  is  over,  you'll  be  expecting  to  be  counted  among 
the  non-combatants.  Don't  apprehend  for  me,  Jack;  I  will 
return  before.  midnight.  Keep  uj)  your  scout,  and  get  a  stoutei 
heart  at  work  —  you  couldn't  have  a  bet: 

"  That's  to  say,  Clarry,  that  I'm  a  durn'd  good-natered  fool 
for  my  pains.  I  onderstands  you — " 

friie  rot  was  lost  to  the  ears  of  Clarence  Cornvay,  in  the  r  >h 
>f  his  own  and  the  steed  of  his  companion. 

The  worthy  scout,  however,  continued  the  speech  even  aftei 
the  departure  of  all  hearers. 

"But,  fool  or  not,  I'll  look  after  you,  as  many  a  fool  before 
has  looked  after  a  wiser  man,  and  been  in  time  to  save  him 
when  lie  couldn't  save  himself.  As  for  you,  Ned  Conway,"  he 
continued  in  brief  soliloquy,  ami  with  a  lifted  linger,  "you  may 
draw  vour  skairts  over  the  eyes  of  Clarence,  but  it'll  take  thicker 
skairts  than  yourn  to  blind  .Jack  Hannister.  Yon  couldn't  do  it 
altogether  when  we  war  boys  together,  and  I'm  a  thinking  — 
"t'll  be  a  mighty  onbeeoming  thing  to  me,  now  that  I'm  a  man, 
!f  I  should  let  you  be  any  more  successful.  Well,  here  we 
stand.  The  thing's  to  be  done;  the  game's  to  be  played  out; 
and  the  stakes,  Ned  Conway,  must  be  my  head  agin  youm. 
'I  he  grime's  a  fair  one  enough,  and  the  head  desarves  to  lose  it, 
that  can't  keep  its  place  on  the  shoulders  where  God  put  it." 

With  this  conclusive  philosophy,  the  scout  tightened  his  belt 
about  his  waist,  threw  up  his  rifle,  the-  flint,  and  priming  of 
which  he  carefully  examined,  then,  disappeared  for  a  brief  space 
among  the  stunted  hushes  that  grew  beside  the  swamp  thicket. 
H.'  .-merged  soon  after,  leading  a  stout  Cherokee  pony,  which 
had  been  contentedly  ruminating  among  the  cane-tops.  Mount 
ing  this  animal,  which  was  active  and  sure-footed,  he  set  «i\'  ir. 
»i  smart  canter  upon  the  track  pursued  by  his  late  companions, 
just  as  the  rainstorm,  which  had  been  for  some  time  threatening 
began  to  discharge  the.  hoarded  torrents  of  several  weeks 
the  parched  and  thirsting  earth. 


THE  51 


CIIA  I'TKK    V. 
TIIK   HLACK    KIIU:K>   m-- 


VVlill.i:   the   kinsmen  won«  aboul 

X.V  .i,l.  there  were  otlicr   j 

nil'.'  :    w  miles    distant.  ; 

down,  on  the  .same  road,  toward  th  I  f  the 

r  skulking   woodman   may  havr   seen,  toward    nightfall,  a   n 

p  nl'  lmr>.  MUin- 

\HT.  winding  slowly  down  the   narr-- 
car/  ,  sutlic-itMit    to   make,   them    nliji-t  • 

picioii,  even  it'  tii  ,    rcn- 

,dl    tiling-  .    ie    unwonted    . 

ily  strange  and  ealrnlatrd  to  inspire  apprehension.    1 

;    in  complete  l.laek  —  each  cai'i;. 

Is,  and  all    the  u-nal    npiipniciits  "f   the  well-mounted    dra 
goon.      Tin-  !  ip  which  Inn. 

upon  the  Irow  ;  tl  the  sa>h  —  all  we  1  hy 

the   same   .1:!  .  -  irions   ii; 

and  color,  iinpaii-i-d  t!  :    this  otherwi-e  ^enc-ral  uniform 

ity.      Silently  they  kept    upon    their   way,  lik 
80Ili<  !  hand  of  the  olden  tin, 

to  reoccnjty,  at  rertaii,   ;  .    .  • 

they    fought   and    snfiered.      Their   dark,    hi-. 

dimini-h  the  . 

f  their  ap]  :  ! 

chin,  in  : 
which  aro  w 

uriant  a!>o\r  th«-  :  d,  it  wou'. 

cultivated  ;    for  no 

to  trim  and  curl  the  pan,  p.-. 

•iansantl  MM-  The  imperial  tu:- 


•r>-  Tin-:  SCOUT. 

decorates  BO  appropriately  tin',  throat  of  tin-,  turkey,  seemed  de- 
'••il,  ill  the  C086  -.1'  each  «>f  our  sable  riders,  to  emulate  in 
length  and  dimensions,  if  not  in  fitness,  that  of  the  same  preten 
tious  bird.  Some  of  these  decorations  were,  doubtlessly,  like 
those  which  became  the  spoil  of  our  worthy  woodman  in  a  pre 
vious  chapter,  of  artificial  origin;  but  an  equal  number  were 
due  to  the  bounteous  indulgence  of  Dame  Nature,  herself.  Of 
the  troop  in  question,  and  their  aspects,  something  more  might 
be  said.  They  had  evidently,  most  of  them,  seen  service  in  the 
"imminent  deadly  breach."  Ugly  scars  were  conspicuous  ou 
sundry  faces,  in  spite  of  the  extensive  foliage  of  beard,  which 
strove  vainly  to  conceal  them;  and  the  practised  ease  of  their 
horsemanship,  the  veteran  coolness  which  marked  their  deliber 
ate  and  watchful  movements,  sufficiently  declared  the  habitual 
and  well-appointed  soldier. 

Still,  there  was  not  so  much  of  that  air  of  military  subordina 
tion  among  them  which  denotes  the  regular  service.  They  were 
not  what  we  call  regulars — men  reduced  to  the  conditions  of 
masses,  and  obeying,  in  mass,  a  single  controlling  will.  They 
seemed  to  be  men,  to  whom  something  of  discipline  was  relaxed 
in  consideration  of  other  more  valuable  qualities  of  valor  and 
forward  enterprise,  for  which  they  might  be  esteemed.  Though 
duly  observant  not  to  do  anything  which  might  yield  advantage 
to  an  enemy,  prowling  in  the  neighborhood,  still,  this  caution 
was  not  so  much  the  result  of  respect  for  their  leader,  as  the 
natural  consequence  of  their  own  experience,  and  the  individual 
conviction  of  each  of  what  was  due  to  the  general  safety.  They 
wen-  not  altogether  silent  as  they  rode,  and  when  they  addn 
their  superiors,  then-  was  none  of  that  nice  and  blind  deference 
upon  which  military  etiquette,  among  all  well-ordered  bodies  of 
atively  insists.  The  quip  and  crack  were  freely 
•-_'(.(!  in  —  the  ribald  jest  was  freely  spoken;  and,  if  the 
ribald  song  remained  unsung,  it  was  simply  because  of  a  becom 
ing  i"11  that  its  melodies  might  reach  other  ears  than 
their  own. 

Their  leader,  if  he  might  be  so  considered,  to  whom  they 
turned  for  the  small  amount  of  guidance  which  they  seemed  to 
need,  was  scarcely  one  of  the  most  attractive  among  their  num 


TIIK    i:i.\  iLS   OF   COX«JAKEE.  53 

ber.      II  :,   thick   set,   dark-looking   person,   v. 

§tern   ami  inflexible   featr  never   li. 

gleams  of  anger  and  iVnu-ity.  II-1  rode  at  their  head,  heard  in 
silence  the  most  that  was  said  l>y  those  immediately  about  him, 

I  if  lie  gave  any  reply,  it  was  uttered  usually  in  a  cold,  con 
clusive  monosyllable.  His  dark  eye  was  turned  as  frequently 
upward  to  the  lowering  skies  as  along  the  path  he  travelled. 
B  :;etimes  he  looked  hack  upon  his  troop  —  and  occasionally 
halted  at  the  lo«>t  of  the  hill  till  the  last  of  his  Land  had  app< 
in  sight  His  disposition  to  taciturnity  was  not  otVen-ive 

to  wh<un  he  permitted  a  free  u-e  of  that  speech  in  which 
'ie  did  not   himself  indulge  ;    and,  without   heeding  his   phlegm, 
free   companions  went   on  without  any  other  restraint  than 
•'in  their  own  sense  of  what  was  due  to  caution  in  an  cu- 
emy's  country. 

ie  the  leader,  at  moments,  rode  one  who  seemed  to  he 

cthing  of  a  favorite  with  him,  and  who  did  not  scruple,  at 

all   times  to   challenge  the   attention  of  his  superior.      He  was 

one  —  perha:  y  y<.unge>t  "f  the  party — wh"sc  <{uick,  ac- 

ft,  and  glih  utterance,  declared  him   to 

belong  t>»  tin-  class  of  stihtler  spirits  who  delight  to  manage  the 
more  direct,  plodding,  and  less  ready  of  their  race.  It  is  not 
improvable  that  he  possessed  some  such  influence  over  the  per- 
wlnnii  we  have  briefly  de.scrihod,  <>f  which  the  latter  was 
himself  totally  uncom  '  <;:  .  Nothing  in  the  deportment  of  the 

Offer  would  have  challenged  a  su>picii»n  of  this  sort.      Though 
he  spoke  freely  and  familiarly,  yet  his  manner,  if  anything, 
much    i:.  .-ft ful    than    that   generally  of  his   companions. 

This  man  was  evidently  a  close  observer,  as  even  his  most  rare- 
remark-    fully  prove. 1  ;    and    the    glances  of  disquiet  which 
the  lea <;•  bout  him,  at  moments,  as   \\>-  lid   not  es 

cape  hll  QOtice.  rp"ii  these  he  did  not  directly  comment.  H> 
policy,  of  C'<urse,  did  not  puffer  him  -ly  to  blunder  as  to 

assume  that  a  lieutenant,  or  captain,  of  dragoons  c«mld  be  dis 
quieted  by  any  thing.  When  he  sj.oke,  th 

his  purpose  was  conn-el  01  Miggesti«'ii,  be  was  careful  that  his 
language  should  imt  indicate  bis  real  purpose.  Wo  take  up  the 
dialogue  between  the  parties  at  a  moment,  \\lu-n,  pausing  at  tht 


54  TUB   SCOUT. 

bottom  of  one  hill,  and  about  to  commence  tho  asce/it  of  anoth 
er,  the  leader  of  the  squad  cast  a  long  thoughtful  glance  sky- 
wanl,  and  dubiously,  but  unconsciously,  shook  his  head  at  the 
survey. 

"  We  are  like  to  have  the  storm  on  our  backs,  lieutenant,  be 
fore  we  can  get  to  a  place  of  shelter;  and  I'm  thinking  if  we 
don't  look  out  for  quarters  before  it  comes  down  in  real  earnest. 
there'll  be  small  chance  of  our  finding  our  way  afterward.  Tin' 
night  will  be  here  in  two  hours  and  a  mighty  dark  one,  it  will 
be,  I'm  thinking." 

The  lieutenant  again  looked  forward,  and  upward,  and  around 
him,  and  a  slight  grunt,  which  was  half  a  sigh,  seemed  to  ac 
knowledge  the  truth  of  the  other's  observations. 

44  1  doubt,"  continued  the  first  speaker,  "if  our  drive  to-day 
will  be  any  more  lucky  than  before.  I'm  afraid  it's  all  over 
with  the  captain." 

Another  grunt  in  the  afiirmative  ;  and  the  subordinate  pro 
ceeded  with  something  more  of  confidence. 

"But  there's  no  need  that  we  should  keep  up  the  hunt  in  such 
a  storm  as  is  coining  on.  Indeed,  there's  but  little  chance  of 
finding  anybody  abroad  but  ourselves  in  such  weather.  I'm  think 
ing,  lieutenant,  that  it  wouldn't  be  a  bad  notion  to  turn  our  heads 
and  canter  off  to  old  Muggs's  at  once." 

"Old  Muggs  !   why  how  far  d'ye  think  he's  off?" 

"  Not  three  miles,  as  I  reckon.  We've  gone  about  seven  froir 
Tantey's,  he's  only  eight  to  the  right,  and  if  we  take  a  short  cut 
that  lies  s.  tine  where  in  this  quarter  —  I  reckon  I  can  find  it  soon 
—  we'll  be  there  in  a  short  half  hour." 

"  Well  !  you're  right  —  we'll  ride  to  Muggs's.  There's  no  use 
keeping  up  this  cursed  hunt  and  no  fun  in  it." 

"  Yes,  and  A  reckon  we  can  soon  make  up  our  minds  to  get 
another  captain." 

,iirk  of  the  lips,  which  accompanied  this  sentence,  wa.- 
intended  to  convey  no  unpleasant  signification  to  the  ears  of  hi* 
superior 

"  How,  Darcy  —  how  is  it — have  you  sounded  them  ?  What 
do  they  say  now  ?"  demanded  the  latter  with  sudden  earnest 
MM 


TUK   BLACK    B  ,::KK.  66 


••  Well.  lieutenant,  . 
as  we  ;  is-  notion." 

D    think   so?      Some  of   them  have    I  liking   for 

M  .rt..n." 

"  Yes,  hut  not  many,  and  they  can  he  cured  of  that." 

''  Knough,  tlien,  till  we  get  to  Muggs's.     Thru  we  can  talk  if 

:  .      Hut  heware  of  what  you  say  to  him.     Muggs  is  no  f: 
of  mine,  you  know." 

••  Nor  is  he  likely  to  he,  so  long  as  he  wears  that 

in  token  that  your  hand  is  as  heavy  a>  your  temper  is  pas- 
••-.      He  remembers  that  hlow  !'' 

"  It  isn't  that,  alt-  replied   the  other;   "hut  the  truth 

.  .nglish  are   no   favorites  here,  even  among  the  most 
'.  «>f  this  people.      There's  a  leaning  to  their  own  folks,  that 
•hem    the    preference  when  we   oppose   them;    and 
Muggs  has  never  heen    .slow  to   >how  us  tiiat  he  has  no  love 
f»r  any  king's  man    aCTOM    the  water.      I  only  wonder, 
knowing   their   dislikes  as  I  do,  that   there's  a  single   loyalist  in 
.y.      These    fellows   that    ride    hehind    us,   morcile- 
ret  bhown    them>elve>  in  a  conflict  with   the  iv 

!    them  who,  in  a  pitched    hattle    between 
one  of  us  and  one  of  them,  wouldn't    lie   more  apt  to  hall- 
him    than    for   us.      Nothing,   indeed,  has    secured    them    t- 

le  but  the  foolish  violence  of  the  rid.  els,  which  wouldn't 
suffer   the  thing  to  work    its   own  way  ;   and    began    tarring  and 
.:  at  the  beginning  of  the  sijuabble.      Had 
they  left    it  to  time,  there  wouldn't    have    been    one   old    M 

t,  Catharine's.      We    shouldn't    1 

such  a  troop    as  that  which    foli  \v<>uld    I,  thi-> 

I  lieutenant  of  dragoons,  after  a  leader,  who  —  " 
"  Whom  we  shall  not  find  in  a  hurry,  and  whom  we  n<>  }•  •; 
need,"  said  the    >nl>..nlinat«'.  c"ilt-luding   tl 
other  had  partly  MI; 

"  Policy  !     ;  atenant.      "  'J'hat 

:->r  refusing  me  the  commission,  ;, 
it  upon  Mor.on.      i  i  : 

M|  and    mu>t    ha\e    it    !:  .  he    ran 

>o  it,  if  it  be  as  we  |  laid  b\  t 


56  Tin-:  SCOUT. 

even  as  a  prisoner,  he  is  dead  to  us.  The  rebels  will  novel 
suffer  him  to  live  if  they  have  taken  him." 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  the  other;  "he  hasn't  the  first  chance. 
And  that  tlicyhare  taken  him,  there  is  little  doubt  on  my  mind." 

"  Nor  on  mine.     What  follows  if  the  men  agree  ?" 

"  What  should  follow  ?  The  friends  of  Morton  can  say  noth 
ing.  The  command  naturally  falls  into  your  hands  without  a 
word  said." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  either.  There's  some  of  them  that 
don't  care  much  about  Morton,  yet  don't  like  me." 

"Perhaps!  But,  what  of  that?  The  number's  not  many, 
and  we  can  put  them  down,  it'  it  conies  to  any  open  opposition. 
But  we'll  see  to  that  this  very  night,  when  we  get  to  Mug^'-." 

"For  Muggs's,  then,  with  all  the  speed  we  may.  Take  the 
lead,  yourself,  Darcy,  and  see  after  this  short  cut.  You  know 
the  country  better  than  I.  We  must  use  spur,  if  we  would  es 
cape  the  storm.  These  drops  are  growing  bigger,  and  tailing 
faster,  every  moment.  Go  ahead,  while  I  hurry  the  fellows  for 
ward  at  a  canter ;  and  even  that  will  barely  enable  us  to  save 
our  distance." 

"  It  matters  little  for  the  wetting,  lieutenant,  when  we  remem 
ber  what's  to  follow  it.  Promotion  that  comes  by  water  is  not 
by  any  means  the  worse,  for  the,  wetting.  The  shine  gets  dim 
upon  the  epaulettes ;  but  they  are  epaulettes,  all  the  same. 
There's  the  profit,  lieutenant — the  profit  !" 

"  Ay,  the  profit  !  Yes,  that  will  reconcile  us  to  worse  weather 
than  this ;  but—" 

The  sentence  was  left  unfinished,  while  the  subordinate  rode 
ahead  and  out  of  hearing.-  The  lieutenant  signalled  his  men,  as 
they  slowly  wound  down  the  hill,  to  quicken  pace ;  and  while 
IK-  watched  their  movements,  his  secret  thoughts  had  vented  in 
a  low  soliloquy. 

"  True !  the  event  will  reconcile  us  to  the  weather.  The 
prixu  is  precious.  Power  is  always  precious.  But  here  the 
pri/e  is  something  more  than  power;  it  is  safety  —  it  is  freedom. 
If  Morton  is  laid  by  the  heels  for  ever,  1  am  r-ai'e.  J  escape  my 
danger  —  my  terror  —  the  presence  which  I  hate  and  fear  !  I 
do  not  deceive  myself,  though  I  may  blind  these.  Kdward 


mi:   BLA<  EC    U&J  ::KF.  67 

Morton  was  one  in  shrunk  to  less  than  rny  full 

proportions.     That  single  act  —  that  net  of  shame  and 
—  made  mo  h!  II*'  alone,  knows  the  guilt  and  the  mean- 

ness  of  t!  nt  of  my  life.     God  !   what  would  1 

not  give  to  have   that    memory  obliterated   in  him  who  did,  and 
him   who    hehehl,   the   deed   of  that    moment.      I    feel   my  heart 
tremble  at  his  approach —  my  muscles  wither  heneath  his  glance ; 
and  I,  who  fear  not  the  foe.  and  shrink  not  from  the  danger,  and 
ill    hrave  —  brave   to   desperation — I    dare  not  lift 
my  e\  es   to   the   encounter  with    those  of  another  having  limhs 
and   a   per^>n  neither   stronger    nor   nohler  than    my  own.      He 
down,  and    his   lips  i';.r  ever    closed,  and  1  am    free.      I    can  then 
:lie  in  confidence,  and  look  around  me  without  dreading  the 

eye.     But,  even  should  he  live  —  should  he 

have  escaped  this  danger — why  should  I  continue  to  draw  my 
breath  in  fear,  when  a  >ingle  stroke  may  make  my  safety  cer 
tain —  may  ncl  me  of  every  doubt —  every  apprehension/  It 
must  be  .  irard  Morton,  it  is  sworn.  In  your  life  my 

shame  lives,  and  while  your  lips  have  power  of  speech,  I  am  no 
moment  safe  from  dishonor.     Your  doom  is  written,  surely  and 
.  if  it  be  not  already  executed." 

\\eiu    only  so   many  indistinct   mutterings,  inau 
dible    to    IIIOM-    who    followed    him.     He   commanded   them   to 
•  •ac.li,  quickened  their  speed,  and  the  whole  troop,  following 
his  example,  set  olf  on  a  smart  canter  in  the  track  which  I  > 
had    taken.       Meanwhile,    the    storm,    which    before    had    only 
threatened,    began    to    pour    down    its    torrents,    and    ere    they 
•he  promised  .shelter  at  Muggs's  —  a  rude  cabin  of  pine 
.  to  which    all    direct    approach    was    impossible,   and    which 
but   an  initiate   could   have  found,  so  closely  was  it  buried 
nmonir  the  dense  groves  that  .skirted  the  river  swamp,  and  may 
Jiave  formed  a  portion  of  its  primitive  domain.      Here  the  ; 
t"  a  full  halt,  but  the  object  at  which  they  aimed  app. 
to  he  le.-s  their  own    than    their    hordes  and   equipment-.       I 

•  ducted  into  yet    deepi-r   rece>se>,  where,  in  cl 
and  shrubbery,  in  which    art    had    slight! ;.  nature, 

were  BO  bestowed  as  to  suffer  only  -lightly  from  the  storm. 
The  greater  portion  of  tho  troop  t«..,k  shelter  h\  *J'e  cabin  of 


58  THE    SCOUT. 

Muggs,  while  a  small   squad   still    kept   in   motion    arouiul   the 
neighborhood,  heedless  of  the  went  her,  and   quite   as  watchful 

from  long  hahit,  ;is  if  totally  unconscious  of  any  annoyances. 

The  establishment  of  .Mnggs  was  one,  in  fact,  belonging  to 
the  party.  The  host  himself  was  a  retired  trooper,  whom  a 
wound  in  the  right  arm  had  so  disabled  that  amputation  hecame 
necessary.  Useless  to  the  troop  in  actual  conflict,  he  was  yet 
not  without  his  uses  in  the  position  which  he  held,  and  the  new 
duties  he  had  undertaken,  lie  was  a  hhmt,  fearless  old  soldier, 
a  native  of  the  neighborhood,  who,  being  maimed,  was  tolerated 
l>v  the  w  hi  ITS  as  no  longer  capalde  of  harm  ;  and  suffered  to  re 
main  in  a  region  in  which  it  was  thought,  even  if  disposed  to  do 
mischief,  his  opportunities  were  too  lew  to  make  his  doings  <if 
very  serious  importance,  lie  .Mild  strong  liquors,  also  —  did  not 
villanously  dilute  his  leverages  —  and,  as  he  made  no  distinc 
tion  between  his  customers,  and  provided  whigS  and  lories  at  the 
same  prices,  theie  u  as  no  good  reason  to  expel  him  from  his 
present  position  hy  way  of  punishing  him  for  a  course  of  conduct 
in  which  so  heavy  a  penalty  seemed  already  to  have  been  at 
tached.  He  was  prudent  enough  —  though  he  did  not  withhold 
his  opinions  —  to  express  them  without  warmth  or  venom  ;  and. 
as  it  was  well  known  to  the  patriots  that,  lie  had  never  heen  a 
savage  or  blood-thirsty  enemy,  there  waA  a  very  general  dispo 
sition  among  them  to  grant  him  every  indulgence.  IVrh 
however,  all  these  reasons  would  have  heen  unavailing  in  his 
behalf,  at  the  sanguinary  period  of  which  we  write,  but  for  tin- 
excellence  of  his  liquors,  and  the  certainly  of  his  supply.  Hi* 
relations  with  the  British  enabled  him  always  to  provide  himsi-lf 

:iailest<  u,  and   every  public  convoy  replenished   his  private 

It  should   he  also  understood  that  none,  of  the  wings,  at 

an\    moment,  suspected    the   worthy   landlord    of  a    previous    or 

•nt    connection  with  a  band   so  odious   as  that  of  the  Black 
Riders.      The  appearance  of  the-e  despei  only  a  -ignal 

tO  MaggS  to  take   additional    precautions.      As  we    have   already 
•  d,  a    portion   of   the   hand  was   sent    out    to   patrol   the    sur 
rounding    country;    and    the    number    thus    despatched,    on    the 

••nt  occasion,  was,  hy  the  earnest  entreaty  of  the  host,  made 
twice  as  large  as  the  lieutenant  thought  there  was  any  occasion 


r.i.u'K   KIIM:;  B  58 


for.       Hut    tin*    former  .  uith  eharacten-tic  stuhhornne«8. 

ami  with  a  decree  of  sullenness  in  his  manner  which  w 

;:su:il  custom. 

"  I   in    not    ovrr-pl'-a.-ed    to    sec    you    hero    at    nil.   this    time, 
lieutenant,  though   I   reckon   you  V,-  tor 

..irp   stir   amoui;   tlic   rehels   all   alonj 

Wateree,  and   down  on  the  Santee.  tin-re's   no   telling  you  how 
far.      A>  tor  t  .it  's  a->warm  tliar',  in  sjiitc  of  all  Hill 

lin-ham    ran   do,  and   he's    twice   as   spry   as   ever.      li 
only  two  day-  a-o.  has  l.een  that  creeping  critter.  Supple  .lack  ; 
that  conic  in.  as  I  may  my  shoulder,  like  the  old  Satan 

him-    :        A1       -•  1  did  think  it  was  the  old  Satan,  till  he  laughed 
at    i;  and   then  1   know'd    him   hy  his   lan-h.      Now.  it's 

cheat  Supplr  .Fack.  and    he  knows  all  ahont  j 
!!«•'>  uillin.^  to    hotViend    me.  thon-h    lie    jrii: 

fair  warninir,  la-t    time    he  was   here,  that    1   wa>   suspicionrd  tor 
lo\-JnU'    you    too    well.       NOW,    sulit    my    ced;u->.   men.    IV- 

'•n    to    love    you  —  yon    know  that  —  and    I'm 

ihinkinL'.  for  your  sake  and  mine  huth,  the  MHUHT  you  draw  spur 

for  the    mountains,  the    smoother  will    he   the  skin  you  keep.      I 

':   want    to   see,   the   ii(Lrly  lace   of  QHC    (rf  }"ii    I'm-  a   month  of 

>uinl, 

"  Whv.  Mii-u  --  old    M    __  --  gel  M'cd  in  the  very  he- 

pnninj:  of  tin-  BeaflOnj      SOW*!  this.'  —  what  '>  COB 

niand  of  half  a  do/en. 

"  1    .  :IM!,  when  I  know  that  hem; 

-  very  mail  that's  keeping  had  company.      Such    raj».-«calli«'ns 
u.  if  you  eon  BD,  would  Weak  uj.  the  he>t  'nr;. 

jam  Vfai  in:  .i^rh.  and  MI   old 

T  awakened  no  more  smile  on  his  lips  than  npoi 

•  Uen  in  M  :••-'.     He  oontimied  to 

bOT   them    with    half  playful    ahu-e.  mingled    \\ith    : 
well  intended    n-p  \\hile    pro\  idin^-,    with    true    landlord 

tor    thei:  1   demandf  mm 

put  iii  fre.juent  n-ipiisition  —  a  choice  supply  of  h-j. 
pro.i:  i  a  hiiX  heneatli  ti  .ml   was 

LCD   up   into   little   group*   that    htui«il. 


60  Tin:  SCOUT. 

own  fashion,  in  the  several  corners  of  the  wigwam.  The  rain 
meanwhile  beat  upon,  and,  in  some  places,  through  the  roof — 
the  rush  of  the  wind,  the  weight  of  the  torrent,  and  the  general 
darkness  of  the  scene,  led  naturally  to  a  considerable  relaxation 
even  of  that  small  degree  of-  discipline  which  usually  existed 
among  the  troop.  Deep  draughts  were  swallowed  ;  loud  talking 
ensued,  frequent  oaths,  and  occasionally  a  sharp  dispute,  quali 
fied  by  an  equally  sharp  snatch  of  a  song  from  an  opposite  quar 
ter,  proved  all  parties  to  be  at  case,  and  each  busy  to  his  own 
satisfaction. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  troop,  whom  we  have  just  seen  acting  in 
command,  was  perhaps  the  least  satisfied  of  any  of  the  party. 
Not  that  he  had  less  in  possession,  but  that  he  had  more  in 
hope.  He  suffered  the  jibe  and  the  song  to  pass ;  the  oath 
roused  him  not,  nor  did  he  seem  to  hear  the  thousand  and  one 
petty  disputes  that  gave  excitement  to  the  scene.  He  seemed 
disposed  —  and  this  may  have  been  ji  part  of  his  policy  —  to 
release  his  men  from  all  the  restraints,  few  though  they  were, 
which  belonged  to  his  command.  B*t  his  policy  was  incom 
plete.  It  was  not  enough  that  he  should  confer  licentious  privi 
leges  upon  his  followers — to  secure  their  sympathies,  he  .should 
have  made  himself  one  of  them.  He  should  have  given  himself 

portion  of  that,  license  which  he  had  accorded  to  them.  I'ni 
lie  was  too  much  of  the  Englishman  for  that.  He  could  not  di 
vest  himself  of  that  haughty  bearing  which  was  so  habitual  in 
the  carriage  of  the  Englishman  in  all  his  dealings  with  the  p,o- 
vincial,  and  which,  we  suspect,  was,  though  undeclared,  one  of 
the  most  active  influences  to  provoke  the  high-spirited  people  of 
the  south  to  that  violent  severing  of  their  connection  with  the 
mother-country,  which  was  scarcely  so  necessary  in  their  case 
as  in  that  of  the  northern  colonies. 

Our  lieutenant  —  whose  name  was  Stockton  —  it  is  true, 
made  sundi\  ,  but  not  very  successful  efforts,  to  blend  himself 
with  his  comrades.  He  shared  their  draughts,  he  sometimes 
yielded  his  ears  where  the  dialogue'  seemed  earnest  —  sometimes 
he  spoke,  and  his  words  were  Miiliciently  indulgent;  but  ho 
lacked  utterly  that  ease  of  carriage,  that  simplicity  of  manner, 
which  alone  could  prove  that  his  condescension  was  not  the  re~ 


THK    Hi.  \ 

B\i\t  of  effort,  and  aizain-t  tin-  desires  <>f  his  mini.      I.' 

•y,  was  more   supple   as   lie  was   IIMHV  subtle,      lit'  was  not 
deficient    in   those   arts  which,  amoni:  the   ignorant,  will   ah- 
Kecuiv   the  low.     lie   drank  with  them,  as  it'  he  could   not  well 
have  drunk   without  them  —  threw   himself  among  their   i 
as  if  he  could  not  have  disposed  his  limhs  easily  anywhere  « 
and  did  for  his  superior  what  the  latter  could  never  have 
!.:mself.      II--     •  Brated  sufficiently  on  the  mind 
re  a  faction  in  his  favor,  and   tlr.  iiencd.  h 

himself  of  the  moment  when  the  Jamaica  had  pr<>'. 
ti«»n   of  its   p  •    broach    njieidy    tli'1    Mihjcct   whir!, 

hitli-  "nly  discus.-ed  in  priv, 

thfl    entreaties,   the    arguments,  or   the    promises   made    by 
Kn-  v    to   persuade   the   troop  into   his  way  of  tliii.l. 

we  -hall  say  nothing.      It  will  he  suih'cient  for  ,.ur  purpose   that 
we  show  the  condition  of  things  at  this  particular  juncture,     < 
siderable  pr<>invss  had  now  heen  made  with  the  subject.      It  had, 
in  fact, become  the  one  subject  of  discus-ion.     The  per-on  whom 
it  more  immediately  concerned,  had,  prudently,  if  not  mud. 
withdrawn   himself  from   the   apartment,  thou-h   in  d,,; 

i  himself    to  'th  the  pi' 

The  various  groups   hail   mingled   th. 

The   diiVerent    smaller   topics    which    before    excited    them,   had 
fore  the  magnitude  of  this,  and  each  : 

••'1  importance   as   i 
in  the  creation  of  |  :iu. 

So  far,  Darcy  had   no  reason   to  •!  with  h' 

formances.      Assisted   by  the  Jamaica,  his  ar-  i.ad    sunk 

deeji  into  their  souls.     One  after  another  ha-'.  -.vert 

;o  his  views,  and  he  was  just   about  to  flatter  himself  with  the 
conviction    that    he    should    soo;,  the    uuaiii: 

shout  which  should  d<vlare  the  MMU.!. 

\\hen  another  party,  who  before  had  laid  n  >t  .  MOW 

joined  in  the  .  after  a  man;..  .is  no 

lew  important  M  :adh.vd. 

"Counting  sculps  '• 

di-.-kens   you  was   brou-ht  -  II 

for  making   a   new  cappin.  afore  you  know  irl 


62  THK   SCOUT. 

old  You  reckon  Nod  Morton's  dead,  do  you  7  I  reckon  he'f 
alive  and  kicking.  I  don't  say  so,  mind  me.  I  wouldn't  swoaj 
fiicli  a  thing  on  Scripture  hook,  but  I'm  so  nigh  sure  of  it,  that 
I'd  he  willing  to  swear  never  agin  to  touch  a  drop  of  the  stuff 

'•'0,  he  is  not  alive." 
"But,  Muggs  —  if  he's  alive,  where  is  he?" 

Gog's  wounds  !  that's  easier  asked  than  answered  ;  hut  if 
ye  go  to  count  for  dead  every  chap  that's  missing,  I'd  have  to 
go  in  mourning  mighty  often  for  the  whole  troop  of  you,  my 
chickens.  It's  more  reasonaltle  that  he's  alive  jist  hecauso  we 
don't  hear  of  him.  We'd  ha'  hearn  of  him  soon  enough  if  the 
Is  had  a  got  him.  AYo'd  ha'  MM-U  his  hide  upon  a  drum 
head,  and  his  own  head  upon  a  stump,  and  there  wouldn't  ha 
hern  a  dark  corner  on  the  Wuteroe  that  wouldn't  ha'  hern  ring 
ing  with  the  uproar  about  it.  1  tell  you,  my  lads,  that  day  that 
the  death  of  Nod  Morton,  won't  he  a  quiet  day  in  these 
parts.  There'll  he  more  of  a  storm  in  these  woods  than  is  gal 
loping  through  'em  now.  If  you  don't  cry  that  day,  the  rebel* 
will  ;  and  let  them  lose  what  they  may  in  the  skrimmage,  they'll 
have  a  gain  when  they  flatten  him  on  his  hack!" 

"All,  Muggs!'1   exclaimed  Darcy,  "I'm  afraid  you  let  your 
wishes  hlind  you  to  the,  truth.     J   suppose  you  don't  know  that 

;  the  captain's  horse,  and  he  all  bloody?" 

"Don't  I  know,  and  don't    I    think,  for  that  very  reason   too, 

that  he'>  safe  and  sound,  and  will  soon  he  among  you.     You  found 

his  horse,  hut  not  him.      The  horse  was  hloody.      Well!      If  the 

blood  had  heen   his,  and  vital  hlood,  don't  you  think  you'd   ha' 

found  the  rider  as  well  as  the   horse?      But,  perhaps,  you  didn't 

stay   long   enough    for   the    hunt.      Folks   say  you  all   rode  well 

enough  that  day.     But  if  the,  cappin  was  mortal  hurt  and  you 

didn't  find  him,  are  you    sure   the.  rehels  did  }      I'm  a  thinking, 

hy  no  manlier  of  means.      For,  if  they'd   ha'  got    him,  wlia. 

llo-halloo   wo.    rshould    have   had.      No,   to   my  thinking,  the 

rappin  lost  the  hoi>e  a-purpo>o  when  he  found    he   couldn't 

the  rehols.      The  whole  troop  of  Butler  was  upon  him.  swearing 

death  agin  him  at  every  jump.      Ho   sure  now,  Ned   Morton  left 

the  critter  to  answer  for  him.  and  fuk  to  the  swamp  like  a  hrown 

in  September.      I  can't  feel    as   if  he  was  dead;   and,  if  he 


Tin:  «i.1 

was  F.nsiirii  I  |  ppin 

out  of  any  but  one  that  COmi  rth.  I'm  fi-r  country 

bom,  if  a 

"  Well,  MUJ-.:-,  what  objection  d  !  to  the  lieutenant?' 

••  Hi-'-  not  '      •  try  b  rn,  I  tell  y 

"  Hut  lie'-  :  in  the  cruntry 

than  Lieutenant  Stockton." 

"That   in. nit    he,  anil    then,  airin,  it   moutn't.      I'm   a-thinkim* 

e  fur 

i-"ur  eappir.   if  BO    be    that    Ned    Morton's   slipped 

in.      I    do:  to-nijjht —  at    this    present — hut 

at  him  when  I  in,  and  you'll   say  thai'  n  to 

he  a  cappin.     He's  a  drajr'^ui,  im\v,  amon^  a  th-Misainl,  and  then, 

i-MUiitry  horn." 

"  Hut,  Mii^-jrs,  I  don't  see  that  yov.r  arpi:.  niui-h. 

.viuerican    1'oin   is   a   kind's  man,  and  a  Hriti.sh   horn   is  the 

j  natural,  wlu-n  they're  li^litin^r  on   the   same    ! 
that  ln»rn  should  have  rommand  just   tin- 

American." 

"  I  d  !,;it  it'.s  natural,  and  I  don't  helieve  it.      '1 

a  mighty  dii;<  n  'em   to   my  think''!/.      Aj 

.    I'm    one    that  w;  i    let 

lit  it  out  .  !    and   l<-\  . 

:and.      It  \vas  a  >mt  of  family  (juarnd,  and  wouhl    ha'  '. 

hadn't    .lipped    a    l,,n^   >poon    i'  dish. 

01  we'd    ha'  licked    them,  and  which  • 
ve'd  all  ha'  heen  ([iiiet  :e    this.      Hut 

mine,  with   your   Irishmen,  and   your   Yagers.  Jch- 

ineii  .  the    matt. 

u  t       As 

\v  hai   .'       N",  hy  the  ]io\\er>  [       }  . 

\vell    enough    to    .say    >,,.       Hut   when 

•  iin'1   hearn,   I   can  teli   j 
"\YrlU"    iVom  half  a  do/.en.     MLet'fhetrl     The  news  !     The 

"  Well!      I''-   not  well  —  not  well    i*  1   the 

u're  ^-oiM-  fn.m    t! 
'ick       '  e   is  about  to   run  ..1 


64  IHK   sriUJT. 

have  it  from  bcrub  Ilcriot  —  little  Scrub,  you  know  —  that 
they've  had  secret  council  in  CaimU'n,  and  all's  in  a  mist  thai 

—  the  people  half  scared  to  death,  for  they  say  that  thev  can't 
get   bacon   or    beans,    and    Itawdon's   going   to   vackyate,   and 
sw'ars,  if  he  has  to  do  so,  he'll  make  Camden   sich   a  blaze  that 
it'll  light  his  way  .ill  down  to  Charleston.         I'm  a-lookin;. 

for  the  burst  every  night.  That's  not  all.  Thar's  as  fresh  a 
gathering  of  the  rebels  along  the  Santee  and  J'edee  under 
Marion,  as  il' every  i'ellow  you  had  ever  killed  had  got  his  sculp 
back  agin,  and  was  jest  as  ready  to  kick  as  ever.  We!l,  T  . 
Taylor's  brushing  like  a  little  breexe  about  (Jranby,  and  who 
but  Sumtcr  rides  the  road  now  from  Ninety-Six  to  Augusta  f 
Who  but  he?  Cunningham  darsn't  show  his  teeth  along  the 
track  for  fear  they'll  lie  drawed  through  the  back  of  his  head. 
Well,  if  this  is  enough  to  make  you  feel  M-arey,  ain't  it  enough 
to  make  Ned  .Morton  keep  close  and  hold  in  his  breath  till  he 
find  a  clean  country  before  him.  Don't  you  think  of  makirir  a 
new  cappiu  till  you're  sartin  wliM's  come  of  the  old;  and  if  it's 
all  over  with  him.  then  1  say  look  out  for  another  man  among 
you  that  comes  out  of  the  nateral  airth.  Ben  Williams  for  «ne, 
lads,  before,  any  other." 

"Hurrah  for  J5en  Williams!"  was  the.  maudlin  cry  of  half  a 
dozen.  The.  lieutenant  at  this  moment  reappeared.  His  glance 
was  frowningly  fixed  upon  the  landlord,  in  a  way  to  convince 
Mugi>  that  he  had  not  remained  uninformed  as  to  the  particular 
course  which  the  latter  had  taken.  But  it  was  clearly  not  his 
policy  to  show  his  anger  in  any  more  decided  manner,  and  the 
cudgels  were  taken  up  for  him  by  Darcy,  who,  during  the 
various  Lmg  speeches  of  the  landlord  had  contrived  to  maintain 
a  running  lire  among  the  men.  lie  plied  punch  and  persuasion 

—  stroii--    argument   and    strong   drink  —  with    equal    industry; 
and  the  generous   tendencies  of  the    party  began  everywhe: 
overflow.       II"    felt    his   increa.-ing   strength,   and    proceeded   to 
carry  the  attack  into  the  enemy's  country. 

"The  truth  is,  Muggs,  you  have  a  grudge  at  the  lieutenant 
ever  since  you  had  that  brush  together.  You  can't  so  readily 
forget  that  ugly  mark  on  your  muzzle." 

"Look   you,  Ensign    ]>arcy,   there's   something  in    what    you 


IIS   OP   COXiJAKKK.  65 

,hat    a   leetle   turns   upon    my  stomach  ;   f 

the  truth.      I   have  no  more  gi  in    Lieutenant  Stockton 

than  I  ha\c  agin  you.  As  lor  the  mark  ymi  speak  of,  I  do 
it  did  him  no  great  credit  to  make  such  a  mark  on  a  one-armed 
man;  though  I'd  ha'  paid  him  oil' with  a  side-wipe  that  would 
ha'  made  him  'spectful  enough  to  the  one  I  had  left,  if  so  he 
that  Ben  Williams  hadn't  put  in  to  save  him.  That  was  the 
only  onfriendly  thing  that  Ben  ever  done  to  me  to  my  knowing. 
I  han't  n«>  grudges,  thank  (Jod  for  all  his  ,  hut 

that's  no  reason  why  J  shouldn't  say  what  1  do  Mfy,  tl. 

Morton's  the  man  for  my  money  ;  and,  though  I  can't  have 
much  to  say  in  the  Business,  seeing  I  ain't  no  longer  of  the 
troop,  yet  if 'twas  the  last  word  I  had  to  retickilate,  I'd  cry  it 
for  him.  !!•  >  '  to  Ned  Morton,  boys,  living  or  de 

to  Lieutenant  Stockton,  hoys,  and  may  he  soon 
he  captain  of  the  Black  Riders." 

"  Hurrah  for  Stockton  !     Hurrah  !"  \\  \v  almost  unan 

imous  cry,  and   Stockton,  advancing,  was  about  to  speak,  when 
the  faint   sounds   of  a  whistle  broke  upon  the  night,  impart: 

accent  to  the  melancholy  soughing  of  the  wind  without. 
note,  again    repeated,    brought    every  trooper    to    his 
cups   were   set   down    hastily —  i  uckled  on  — 

Bed,  and  ;  tmined. 

was    the  command    of   Stockton,  and   hif 
.ptitude,  shown  on  this  occasion,  was  perhaps  (jui;,- 
to  justify  the  choice  which   the   troop   had   been   about   to   make 
••••captain.      "  To  horse,  !"    In-  cried,  leading   the    u.'y    M 
the  entrance,  hut   ere  he  reached   it,  the  thrown  1 

and   the  ambitious  lieutenant  recoiled  in  COnstenuti 
counter. -d,  in  the  face  of  the  new-co:  that 

very  man,  supposed    to    be    dea.l,  whom    he    equally  feared    ;nid 

•.d    whose    post    he    was   SO  well    disposed    to    Jill, 
chief  of  the  !  lack  Riders  stood   suddcnl;. 
and  the  shouts  for  the  new  commander  in  n  in 

•which  welcomed  the  old.      Hut  let  u-  retrace  our 
a  few  moments,  and  bring  our  rcade:  iring 

of  the  kinsmen. 


THE   SCOUT. 


CHAPTER    VI 

FIRST    KUUITS    OF    FREEDOM. 

IT  is  not  important  to  our  narrative,  in  returning  to  the  place 
find  iio.n  and  where  we  left  the  rival  kinsmen,  that  we 

'  i    repeat   the    arguments  which   the   younger   employed  in 
.ade  the  other  to  a  more   opon    and   manly  murse 

:idiu-t  in  his  political  career.  These  arguments  could  he  of 
one  character  only.  The  style  in  which  they  were  urged,  how 
ever,  l.ecanie  somewhat  difVerent,  after  the  final  interview  wluVh 
they  had  in  the  presence  of  the  sturdy  woodman.  The  dis- 
ulay  which  Supple  Jack  had  made  of  the  disguises  which  he 
had  found  upon  the  very  road  over  wliich  Edward  Conway  had 
lied,  and  ahout  the  very  time  when  he  had  taken  shelter  in  the 
swamp  from  the  pursuit  of  Uutier's  men,  would,  to  any  mind 
in. I  aosolntely  anxious  not  to  helieve,  have  hee'i  conclusive  of 
his  guilt.  Kdward  Conway  i'elt  it  to  he  so  in  his  own  case,  and 
readilv  eonelnded  that  Clarence  would  esteem  it  so.  The  few 

•tions.  thi'rcfore,  which    time   permitted   him   to  make,  were 
neitln-r    plea.-ant    i:or    satisfactory;    and    when    he    galloped    oil' 
with  his  younger  brother,  he  had  hall' a  douht  whether  t!ie  1 
did    not    meditate    his    sudden   execution,  B8  so«»u  as  they  shouhl 
In-  fairly  concealed    from   the   sight  of  the  woodman.      lie  knew 
enough  of   the  character  of  Clan-nee,   to   know  that    he  would  as 
,  destrov  his  own  hrother  lor  treachery  —  nay,  sooner  —  than 
an  open  eneinv  ;    and  the  silence  which  he  maintained,  the  Mi-rii, 
.11  of  his  features,  and  the  reckless  speed  at  which 
he    Beeincfl    n-^.K-eil    to   ride,  c(»ntrihuted   in    no  small  degree  t< 
increax-    the    ajiprdiensions    of   the    guihy    man.       For   a    hrief 
;   ready  wit  and  prompt  suhterfuge,  which  had  enaUec! 
him    hitherto    to    play  a  various   and    very  complicated    gan, 
life,  with  singular  adroitness  and  su<  :,:<•<!   ahout   to  fail 


67 

He  fell    bli  elasticity  !.  —  liis   COni  :    hhn.-elf 

• 
. 

in  any  conflict,  unites   from  liis  cm-;.  -ad    upon 

that,  in  those  |»artisan  who  {utiirht  tin  ei' 

luit    few    calculations.     A    club,  the    :  the    roug 

liinli  of  the  lithe  !.'  the  mind 

•«'  COHici  'iiis   inoji  •    he  did  not    truly 

ad    the    i  that    mind   and    those    pri: 

which  bil 

and  acti\e  W(  -the  child. .  — which 

were  working  in  i  ;  larcnc.-  ( 

At  K-n-th  the  latter  drew  nj»  hi- 

11,  whi.-h  hy  this  time  had   heo-ine  an  in- 
,:.  had  hitherto  been  ah:  the  par- 

'1'bi-  ai.  .  and  the  aj)|i:v 

th«r,  had  n  'hem  finally  inseiisihle  t.i  I 

.   ut. 

i!d    tin-    younger,  M  h-t    I  I     here. 

!  w..nld 
I  my  father's  son." 

:!O\VIM!    the  example 

of  li'i-,  kinsman,  ami  tlu-  two  ali-'hte..  ,;j,  ,,f  \.\\\.. 

the  «  .    \\bii-b    they  found    a    partial   pr«.terti..n  ; 

storm,  wliirb    was    blowing   from    th.-  did 

cithi-r  net  d,  at  that  moment,  of  shelter  from  i: 
- 

i  then  f.d!..v,«'d   the  partin- 
which  had  faced. 

1    <'«>iiway,  D  .,11    fultilled 

—  ll  m..re  than  was  re.|iii:, 

I 
biot!.. 

f   it.  (Ma. 

"<)l   ':  isbly,     '1 

.     Hut    1 

^a":  ..  in  all  till 


68  THE   SCOUT. 

oM  suspicion^.  God  knows  ho\\  nuieh  I  have  striven  to  set  my 
soul  against  these  suspicions.  (Jod  only  knows  how  much  I 
would  give  could  1  le  smv  that  they  were  groundless.  I  daro 
not  for  my  lather's  sake  believe  them  —  I  dare  not  for  my  own. 
And  this  dread  to  believe,  Edward  Conway,  is,  I  fear,  the  only 
thing  that  has  saved,  and  still  saves  yon,  from  my  blow.  But 
for  this,  kinsman  or  no  kinsman,  your  blood  had  been  as  freely 
shed  by  these  hands,  as  if  its  sluices  were  drawn  from  the  least 
known  and  basest  puddle  in  existence." 

"  I  am  at  your  mercy,  Clarence  Conway.  I  have  no  weapons. 
My  anas  are.  folded.  I  have  already  spoken  when  I  should 
have  been  silent.  I  will  say  no  more  —  nothing,  certainly,  to 
prevent  your  blow.  Strike,  if  you  will :  if  I  can  not  convince 
you  that  1  am  true,  I  can  at  least  show  you  that  I  am  fearless." 

The  wily  kinsman  knew  well  the  easy  mode  to  disarm  his 
brother — to  puzzle  his  judgment,  if  not  to  subdue  his  suspicions. 

"  1  have  no  such  purpose  !''  exclaimed  Clarence,  chokingly. 
"  "Would  to  heaven  you  would  give  me  no  occasion  to  advert  to 
the  possibility  that  I  ever  should  have.  But  hear  me,  Edward 
Conway,  ere  we  part.  Do  not  deceive  yourself — do  not  fancy 
that  I  am  deceived  by  this  show  of  boldness.  It  did  not  need 
that  you  should  assure  me  of  your  fearlessness.  That  I  well 
knew.  It  is  not  your  courage,  but  your  candor,  of  which  I  am 
doubtful.  The  display  of  the  one  quality  does  not  persuade  mo 
any  the,  more  of  your  possession  of  the  other.  We  arc  now  to 
part.  You  are  free  from  this  moment.  You  are  also  safe.  Our 
men  are  no  longer  on  the  Wateree ; —  a  few  hours'  good  riding 
will  bring  you,  most  probably,  within  challenge  of  Watson's  sen 
tinels.  If  you  arc  the  foe  to  your  country,  which  they  declare 
you,  he  is  your  friend.  That  you  do  not  seek  safety  in  <>nr 
ranks,  I  need  no  proof.  But,  ere  we.  part,  let  mo.  repeat  my 
warnings.  Believe  me,  Edward  Conway,  dear  to  me  as  my 
father's  son,  spare  mo,  if  you  have  it  in  your  heart,  the  pain  of 
being  your  foe.  Spare  me  the  necessity  of  strife  with  you.  If 
?t  be  that  you  are  a  loyalist,  let  us  not  meet.  1  implore  it  as 
ihe  last  favor  which  I  shall  ever  ask  at  your  hands  ;  and  I  im 
plore  it  with  a  full  heart.  Ymi  know  that  we  have  not  always 
been  friends.  You  know  that  there  are  circumstances,  not  in 


OH. 

•!«*  our  principles,  on  which  we  have  already  quarrelled,  ami 
which  arc  •  •!' a  nature  hut  to,.  well  calculated  to  bring  into  activ 
ity    the    wilde.-t    a:igi  r   and    tlie  '    hate.      Hut,    howi 
mud!                     been  at  strife  —  however  I  may  have  fancied  that 
you  have   done    me  wrong —  still,  believe  me,  when    I   tell  you 
that    1    havi'  ever,  in    my    cooler  moments,  striven    to  think  of, 
and   to   serve  y..u  kindly.     Henceforward  our  meeting  must  bo 
on  other  terms.      The   cloud  which   hangs  about  your  course  — 
;-piciou  which  stains  yonr  character  in  the  minds  of  others 
—  have    at    last    atl'ected    mine.       We    meet,    hereafter,   only    a* 
.      Your  course  must  then  be  decided  —  your  prin 
ciple-  derlared — your  purpose  known  ;   and  then,  Edward  Con- 
if  it  be  as  men  declare,  and  as  I  dare  not  yet  believe,  that 
you   are  that    traitor   to  your    country  —  that    you    do   lead    that 

mditti  which    has   left   the  print  of  their  horse 
wherever  they  have  trodden,  in  blood  —  then  must   our  meeting 
!  only  ;   and  then,  as  surely  as  I  shall  fe.-l  all  tin' 
L6  of  such  a  connection  in  my  soul,  shall   I  seek,  by  a  strife 
without  remiT.-e,  to  atone  equally  to  my  father  ami  to  my  coun 
try  for  il  id  folly  of  his  son.     Fondly  do  I  implore  you 
;rd  Conw.-iv,  to  .-pare  me  this  trial.      Let  our  parting  at  this 
moment  be  linal,  unless  we  arc  to  meet  on  terms  more  sat; 

tO  both." 

The   elder  of  the   kinsmen,   at  this  appeal,  displayed   more 
emotion,  real  or  affected,  than  he  had  shown  at  any  time  dr. 
the  interview,      He  -'rode  to  and   fro  among1  the  tall  trees,  with 
haii''.  .  behind,  .  '.own  upon  the  earth,  and  brow- 

contracted.      A  .single  t|uiver  might  have  been  seen  at  inorm 

'^  the    muscles  of   his    nmuth.      Neither  of   them  seemed    to 

heed    the  incr-  --'ght    of  the    tempest.      It.-,    r-  ar  was   un- 

heard  —  its   torrents    fell  without    notice  around    and  upon  them. 

•'•'ply  °f  Kdward  Conway  ITU  at    length    spoken.      He   ap- 

i  rother.      He  had  subdued    his  emotions,  whatever 

t   have  been  their  ii  is  were  few  —  his  utter- 

!    and  calm.      H.-    QZtended    bll    hand    to  Clan 
ns-  ho  spoke. 

"  !.<•'  01  ;   n't,  Clarence.      It  doe-*  not  become  me  to  make,  fur 
ther  assurances.     To  reply,  as  I    should,  to  what  you  have  - 


70  THK    SCOUT. 

might   ut     ,  .;>'    to   increase   tin-    \\idih   ai;<l    d-:pth   of  that 

chasm  which  seem      o  lie  between  us.      I  can  QOl  I  am 

Mtufied  with    yimr    tone,  your    temper,  tin     position    which    v<>u 
assume,  and  the  right  which  you  claim  to  dh  ami 

counsel! — and   when  y -.1    threaten!  —  TJut   enough!       I.- 
part  before  anything  b->  ;;;iid  "'Inch  slial!   make  you  :  u-gi«t  any 
thing  which  you  should  r'jrieinb.r,  or  me  that  I  owe  mv  lif 
your  assistance.     ^Vhat  ic  said  is  said-  -let  it  In-  forgotten.      Let 
us  part." 

"Ay,  let  us  part:  hut  let  it  not  be  forgotten,  Edward  On 
way  r 

"  True,  true  !  Let  it  not  he  forgotten.  It  shall  not  be  forgot 
ten.  It  can  not  be.  It  would  not  be  easy  for  me,  Clarence,  tu 
forget  anything  which  has  taken  place  in  the  last  ten  days  of 
my  life." 

There  was  a  latent  signification  in  what  was  said  by  the  speak 
er  to  arouse  new  suspicions  in  the  mind  of  the  yonngi-r  of  the 
kinsmen.  He  saw,  or  fancied  that  he  saw,  a  gleam  of  ferocity 
shine  out  from  th<>.  eyes  of  his  brother,  and  his  own  inflammable 
temper  was  about  to  Hare  up  am 

"  Do  you  threaten,  Edward  Conway  1  Am  1  to  understana 
you  as  speaking  the  language  of  defiance  ?" 

"  Understand  me,  Clarence,  as  speaking  nothing  which  should 
not  become  a  man  and  your  brother." 

The  reply  was  equivocal.     That   it  was  s<>,  was   n 
cient  why  Clarence   Conway  should    hesitate,   to   urge   a   niattei 
which  might  only  terminate  in  bringing  their  (juarrel   to  a  crisis. 

"  The  sooner  we   separate    the  better,"  was    his   only  a 
»"  Here,  Edward  Conway,  is  one,  of  my  pistols.      You   shall  not 
.-ay  1    sent  you  forth  without  weapons  to  defend  you,  into  a  fi-r 
est    field,  possibly,  with   foes.     The   horse  which   you    ride,   is  a 
favorite.     You  have  lost  yours.     Keep   him  till  you  an-  provi- 
(led.     You  can   always  find   an  opportunity  to  return   him  \, 
you  are  prepared  to  do  so;   and  should  you  not,  it  will  make  i 
difference.      Farewell:    God    be   with   you  —  but  remember!  — 
remember !' 

The  youth  grasped  the  now  reluctant  hand  of  the  elder  COQ- 
way  ;  wrung  it  with  a  soldi.  p  —a  pressure  in  which  miu 


<\i.  71 

gled  , .._ 

thon,  Bpri  teed,   In-  dashed  rapidly  into  the    fur- 

est  and  in  ;i  IV  w  moments  was   hidden  fr«>m  si^ht   in  its  th. 
max 

member,     Yes,  Clarence  Conwajr,  I  will  remember 

Can  I  - 
t->  counsel,  to  warn,  and  to  threaten--  into  my  j 

-to  denounce  tlieni  wit:. 

en    them  with    vengeance.      I  will    n  —  to    requite]       I? 

shall  not    he  always  ti:  .  »•  will   he  in  my  hand- 

.nil  I  will  j.lay  it  a  .  with  all  u]".n  the 

.      Without   p 
,,i-  pity  —  lesolved   and   ivrkle>s —  1  will   speed  on  to  t; 

:i  of  my  .  until  my  triumph  is  complete  !      1    i 

I  .' —  I  must  accoi 

And   why,  l'oi>1)(,th  /      BecaU86    1    RIB 

•  •a  he\vare  !     1  irere  no  son  <>f  my 

father  it'  I  did  not  resent  this  insiden. 

II«-  had  extricated    his  hor>e   from  the  COT6T  which 

ii'nn  \\hih  (iving  utterance  to  this  .     The  i 

.:id  whinnied    after 
phi:-  ,d  of  the  hea>t  s«.,-me.l  to  irrita: 

.-traint  which    he    had    foiim. 
deci  .:  jiainli;!.  ;   which    : 

•  niinsna!  and  under  their  inilu- 

ril  with  tlf  :i.uul 

•  »I  that  hate  whii  h  he  lain  would  have  heMoued  np<>n  hi 

member!"    he   muttered,  as  he  leaped  upon   ; 
"  I  need  no  61  this   en-':.  .  v,  ;iy.       [ 

»ur   l-iiiiiiii^',  and    > 
;    and    forlu-ar   the  wcmian  of  my  la-art    in   oliediem 

!  auth..riry.      \V,    |]  ftll     ,  ,    '  —  \\Y  |]    j]    . 
And,  as  I 

while  —  he  .slii..-k  his  t!  ;  hand  in  the  direetimi  which  hi- 

her  had  taken.      Tumi:... 

:,-d,  though    :,'  ;mj 

|  hich  he  now,  fur  ;  :  t.gan  to 


T2  THE   SCOUT. 

It  may  have  been  ti-n  minutes  after  their  separation,  wheu 
he  heard  a  sound  at  a  little,  distance  which  aroused  his  flagging 
attention. 

"  That  whistle,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  is  very  like  our  own 
It  may  be  !  They  should  be  here,  if  my  safety  were  of  any 
importance,  and  if  that  reptile  Stockton  would  suffer  them.  That 
fellow  is  a  spy  upon  me,  sworn  doubly  to  my  destruction,  if  he 
can  find  the  means.  But  let  me  find  him  tripping,  and  a  shut 
gives  him  prompt  dismissal.  Again  !  —  it  is  !  —  they  arc  hen-  — 
the  scouts  are  around  me,  and  doubtlessly  the  whole  troop  is  at 
Muggs's  this  moment.  Then;  he  could  do  me  no  harm.  .M 
is  sworn  my  friend  against  all  enemies,  and  he  i  *  true  as  any  en 
emy. —  Again,  the  signal !  They  shall  have  an  echo." 

Speaking  thus  he  replied  in  a  sound  similar  to  that  which  he 
heard,  and  an  immediate  response,  almost  at  his  elbow,  satisfied 
him  of  the  truth  of  his  iirst  impression.  He  drew  up  his  stred. 
repeated  the  whistle,  and  was  now  answered  by  the  swift  trend 
of  approaching  horses.  In  a  few  moments,  one,  and  then  an 
other —  appeared  in  sight,  and  the  captain  of  the  Black  Ki 
of  Congaree  on,ee  more  found  himself  surrounded  by  his  men. 

Their  clamors,  as  soon  as  he  was  recognised,  attested  his  pop 
ularity  among  his  troop. 

"]Ia,  Irby!  —  Ha,  Uurnet  !  Is  it  you? — and  you,  Gibbs  — 
you  Fisher:  I  Rejoice  to  see  you.  Your  hands,  my  good  fellows. 
There  !  There  !  You  are  well  — all  well." 

The  confused  <jne.stions  and  congratulations,  all  together,  of 
the  troopers,  while  they  gave  every  pleasure  to  their  chieftain, 
as  convincing  him  of  their  fidelity,  rendered  unnecessary  any 
attempt  at  answer  or  explanation.  Nor  did  Kd\vard  r<>nway 
allow  himself  lime  for  this.  His  words,  though  friendly  enough 
were  lew;  and  devoted,  seemingly,  to  the  simple  business  of 
the  troop.  Captain  Morton  —  for  such  was  the  name  by  which 
only  he  was  known  to  them  —  with  the  quickness  of  a  govern 
ing  instinct,  derived  from  a  few  brief  comprehensive  cjuesti 
all  that  he  desired  to  know  in  regard  to  their  interests  and  posi 
tion,  lie  ascertained  where,  the  main  body  would  be  found,  and 
what  had  taken  place  during  his  absence;  and  proceeded  ID 
stantly  to  the  reasstimption  of  his  command  over  them. 


FII,  ,\r. 

ugh  of  tills,  my  good  i 

W  w  for  uii!.'  You 

have  work  on  hand.      Pmrnet,  do  \n\\  tak 

and  Fisher       1'n-h   jro«I   honefl   do-.vn   for  the  AV  v  the 

road    running   left  of  \  I  >.>  y«Mt  know 

tlu»  route  /      It  1,  0  clay  diggings  of  the  old  Dutchman 

—  the  brick-burner  —  what's  his  name  ?" 

"  I  know  it,  sir " 

.  then.     Take    that    r-;ul  —  jtut   the   steel   hit 

i  them  forward.      If  yon  ;LIV  dil'_ 

take  one  of  our  \v.>rst  rnfinie.-,  —  r>  friend  of  Butfer  —  a  nd>«.d  — 
•han  Colonel   Coir.v.-iy.      Puivue   and   catch    him.      You 
.1  if  you  try  for  it.     Take  him  pris 
oner —  alive,  if  yon  can.      i   parti-.-iilarly  wi>!i   tliat  yon  should 
Irive    him    alive  ;    but,    iviiu'inU-r,  take    him    at    every   ha/.ard. 

dragoon  lingered  lor  further  or.. 
"  ''  in    taking  him,  bring    him   on   t 

!i    his  cabin,  that  there   ni;>  . 
trpriflC  —  no  mistake.     Soniethii, 

aution  ;   s->,  you  will   reineiii'.er.      Away,  now,  ami 

Thrl.  j.roiiijjt.      In  an  ii. 

I'l'.-.Miii;,: 

.    th»-  •  -i  ;ltati'»n "now 

>ncceed  in  taking 

lli:"  1  will 

will  do  him  harm. 
If  they  kill    him— well,  it 
which    he   vnlunt.Hly  incur 

I 
1I«- 

may  not  be 

with 

In  love  !  —  '•»!,  what 

I  *iirn  I  t!.  :  J      And  . 


7-1  THI-:  M  . 

but   think;   lic.r  beauty,  her   pride  of  soul  —  ay.  e\en   her  arn>- 

g-mce,  I  can  think  of  with  temper  and  with  love.     But  his  —  no, 

lie   has  spoken  too  keenly  to   mv  soul  ;   and  when  he  for- 

;hat  I  should  seek  and  sec  //<•/-,  lie  forfeits  every  '/hum.     Let 

•hi'in  slay  him,  if  they  please;   it  can  only  come  to  this  at  1 

And,  with  these1  words,  striking  with  his  open  palm  upon  the 
•.  -ck  of  his  horse,  he  drove  him  forward  to  Muss's.  His  en- 
rrance  we  have  already  seen,  and  the  wonder  it  excited:  the 
wonder  in  all,  the  consternation  in  one.  The  troopers,  with  one 
voice,  cried  out  for  their  ancient  captain  ;  and  Stockton,  con 
founded  and  defeated,  could  only  hoarsely  mingle  his  congratu 
lations  with  the  rest,  in  accents  more  faltering,  and,  as  the  outlaw 
captain  well  apprehended,  with  far  less  sincerity. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

CAPTIVITY FIM>- !'.. 

El»WAUI>    MuKT<i\     bcstowol    I J  <  i'     1  Is    H-jColld    uiaCCT     ()UL    I 

single  glance,  beneath  which   his  eye   fell    and   his  soul   became 
trouMed.      That   glance  was   .  ne    •  t'  eijtial    scorn   and   nuspici-:i. 
It  led  the  treacherous  subordinate,  with  tbe  natitr;.!  trndr... 
a  guilty  conscience,  to  ;!]-,•••  hend   that  all    his  niaclii^:ati.'n- 
been    discovered;    tbat    s'>m«-    ci-e;»ture    «>f  his   tni.^t    !.a«i    j1 
trea:  and  that    he  M-»»d  in  the  pi- 

come  with  the  full  pnrp  ••/••nnc^  and  of  punishment 

But,  though   M-i-m-e  AS  vet,  in    this   respei  t.  Lieutenant  S 
ton  was   not  eijually  so  in    ,  Cicely  nf  less  confront 

He  had  neglected,  even  if  h-r  had    :i-»t    l-i  frayed,  hi^  trust. 
had  kept  aloof  from    the   j  lace.  <.f  dai.-rr,  when    his-    tid  \\  a     re 
quired,  and  left  his  ca;  •  "<  >\hieh 

.  ah'eady  intimated  to  the  rea«ler — which  nattiraH Y  followed 

a  di.  ;it  and    jiemliar    «  ill"  latter  had 

himself.      E\en  when   his   risk  had  heen  takm,  ai'd  the 

daiigers  incurred,  Stockton  hao  cith"r  '  .-b<,rne  that  search  after 


i  vii  v  75 

.-1  it  a-  to    re-  <;er  his  efiY>it>  almost 

Hut  In-   had  undertaken  the  toil-  of  villany  in  vain,  and  with 
out  .                     JT  of  fruits,      The  return  of  h^  ^upe,- 

•hi-  -rave,   left    him    utterly   di 
ll'.  Brer  torn  ins  hopes;  and,  to  hi& 

at  hand. 

Hi-    .  '  •:  ..     not  wholly  without   foundation. 

goon  EUdeil  could  relieve  himself  from 

the  "unteivd  hi>  safe  r- 

D  to  his  troop.  In-  turned    upon    the  lieutenant,  and,  with  an 
i'.ist  than   prudent,  declared  \i\>  disapprobation 
of  his  c-ondnct. 

••  I  know  not,  Lieutenant  E  h.»w  yon  pn.ji<i>e  to  satisfy 

•.don  for  your  failure  to  bring  your  men  to  Dukr.-'- 
,  ;   hut  1  shall  certainly  report  to  him  your  Q6f 
in  sm-h    1.  all   speak   my  own  opinion  of  it,  IIOWCMT 

it  may  inliuence  his.      The  c«m^  ;ir  misconduct  are 

::iputed.     You  involved  me  individually  in  an 
mine  .  l,».-,t  a  hapjiy  opportunity  of  str" 

:y  which  has  ; 
stricken   this   caiuj'.-ii^H.      The  whole   troop  of  the   rebel    1'utler 

.;mihilated  but  f"r 

liich    is    wholly  nnaccountal  :<  .      -    1 
•  If  had    ]  ttd  waited 

,nin<;  with  e\  BfJ  esnlt." 

••  I    .'.id    not    1-.  .  that    there  was   any  prospect  of  doing 

•'lin-   In-low  here,  and    I    heard  of  a  convoy  on   the    road  to 

ie " 

•  •n  that  will  not  answer,  Lieutenant  Stockton.      Y« .1: 
under   orden   lor  one   duty,  and    jir-- 

•  k   the  liberty  ..f  making  I 

':        I    little    ill. 

bow  nigh   you  were   to   ruin.      H  kfl    hour   .-a\eii 

in  with  all    SiimterV  MNBmand,  and    putting  an  end 
to    y-ui     -In'it-lived    authority.  t,  sir,  JOV 

ambition-,  ..and.     foil  bave  yov  Sjmissaiies  among 

the  troop   'irging  your   litmus   to    lead   them;  as  if  Mich   proo  8 


76  THE  SCOUT. 

were  ever  necessary  to  those  who  truly  deserve  them.  Youi 
emissaries,  sir,  little  know  our  men.  It  is  enough  for  them  to 
know  that  you  left  your  leader  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  at  a 
time  when  all  his  risks  were  incurred  for  their  safety  and  your 
own." 

"  I  have  no  emissaries,  sir,  for  any  such  purpose,"  replied  the 
subordinate,  sulkily ;  his  temper  evidently  rising  from  the  un 
pleasant  exposure  which  was  making  before  those  who  had  only 
recently  been  so  well  tutored  in  his  superior  capacities.  "  You 
do  me  injustice,  sir — you  have  a  prejudice  against  inc.  For — " 

"  Prejudice,  and  against  you  /"  was  the  scornful  interruption 
of  the  chief.  "  No  more,  sir  ;  I  will  not  hear  you  farther.  You 
shall  have  the  privilego-of  being  heard  by  those  against  whom 
you  can  urge  no  such  imputations.  Your  defence  shall  be 
made  before  a  court  martial.  Yield  up  your  sword,  sir,  to  Mr. 
Barton." 

The  eye  of  the  lieutenant,  at  this  mortifying  moment,  caught 
that  of  the  maimed  veteran  Muggs  ;  and  the  exulting  satisfac 
tion  which  was  expressed  by  the  latter  was  too  much  for  his 
firmness.  He  drew  the  sword,  but  instead  of  tendering  the  hilt 
to  the  junior  officer  who  had  been  commanded  to  receive  it,  con 
fronted  him  with  the  point,  exclaiming  desperately  — 

"  My  life  first !  I  will  not  be  disgraced  before  the  men !" 

"Your  life,  then!"  was  the  fierce  exclamation  of  Morton, 
spoken  with  instant  promptness,  as  he  hurled  the  pistol  with 
which  Clarence  Con  way  had  provided  him,  full  in  the  face  of 
the  insubordinate.  At  that  same  moment,  the  scarcely  less 
rapid  movement  of  Muggs,  enabled  him  to  grasp  the  offender 
about  the  body  with  his  single  arm. 

The  blow  of  the  pistol  took  effect,  and  the  lieutenant  would 
have  been  as  completely  prostrated,  as  he  was  stunned  by  it. 
had  it  not  been  for  the  supporting  grasp  of  the  landlord,  which 
kept  him  from  instantly  falling.  The  blood  streamed  fr,mi 
his  mouth  and  nostrils,  llalf  conscious  only,  he  strove  to  a  1- 
vance,  and  his  sword  was  partially  uplifted  as  if  to  maintain  \\ith 
violence  the  desperate  position  which  he  had  taken  ;  but,  by 
this  time,  a  dozen  ready  hands  were  about  him.  The  weapon 
was  wrested  from  his  hold,  and  the  wounded  man  thrust  down 


r  \rnviTY — nxi  77 

npon   the    ll-M.r   of  the    hovel,  where    he  was  held  \iy  the  1.- 
knee  of  more  than  one  <»f  the  dragoons,  while  others  wore,  found 
equally  prompt  to  hind  his  arms. 

re  all  willing  to  second  the  pioceedings,  howevoj 
fearful,  of  a  chief  whose  determination  of  character  they  well 
know,  and  against  whom  they  also  felt  they  had  them.- 

•what    ort'f.. '!'••!.  in    the   ready   acquiescence  which   mo>t    «.f 
m  had  Driven   to  the  persuasive  arguments   and   entreaties   ..f 
Dariy.     This  latter  person  had  now  no  reverence  to  display  for 
the  man   in   <  use  he  had   heen   only  too  ofliciuus.     He 

moral  vanes  which    obey  the  wind  of  circum- 
iiid  acquire  that  flexihility  of  hahit,  which,  after  a  little 
while,  leaves   it    impossihle  to   make   them   fix  anywhere.     He 
did  not,  it  is   true,  join   in  the  clamor  against  his  late  ally;   hut 
he  kept  sufficiently  aloof  from   any  display  of  sympathy.     His 
own  selfish  fears  counselled  him  to  forhearanee,  and  he  was  not 
/own  of  martyrdom    in   the  cause  of  any  prin 
ciple  so  purely  al. -tract  as  that  of  friendship.     To  him, 
'»('  the  Hlack   B  |   single   look,  which   sufficiently 

.nfonned    him   that   his   character   was   known    and   his   conduct 
than  suspected.      The  look  of  his  RlpenOI  had  yet  another 
.noaning,  and  that  was  one  of  unmitigated  contempt. 

Unlike   the    lieutenant,  Darcy   was   sufficiently  prudent,  \m\\-. 
.  not  to  display  hy  glance,  word,  or  action,  the  hk-h 

it.      He  wisely  suhdued  the  resentment  in  his  heart,  pi. 

i«)  time    the  work   of  retrihutiou.      Pmt  he  did  not, 
any  more  than  Stockton,  forego  his  desire  f»r  ulti: 
11''  1  PrllO   could  wait,  and  who>,.   pafionce,  like 

that  of  the  long  unsatisfied  creditor,  ,>eived  oidv  t- 
ihe.  uMial  interest  ,  imomU  of  -:i  which 

'    no w  f..r  time  that  he 

-lie.  1    to  experience  tlie  M-,,ni  of  their  mutual  Miperi'T. 
It  may  1  ••  stated,  ju  th!  thai    the  alliair  |  ,,-k- 

himself  was   quite    as   much    tin-    result    of  tl. 
0  of  injury,  at   the  hands  of  .Morton,  |  e  of  an\ 

.  the  pan 

"  Take  this  man  hence,"  was  the  e.-minaud  of  Morton,  turning 
mce  moi'  s  upon   the   p.  .  1          him 


78  THH  SCOUT. 

hence,  Sergeant  Fisher —  see  him  well  hestowed — have  his 
wants  attended  to,  hut  SOP,  ahove  all  things,  that  lie  escape  not. 
Tie  has  gone  too  far  in  his  folly  to  ho  trusted  much  longer  with 
himself,  till  wo  are  done  with  him  entirely.  This,  I  trust,  will 
•;<•!  ui  ho  the  case." 

This  order  gave  such  a  degree  of  satisfaction  to  the  landlord, 
Misggs,  that  he  found  it  impossihle  to  conceal  his  delight.  A 
roar  of  pleasure  hurst  from  his  lips. 

"  Ho  !  ho!  ho!  —  1  thought  it  would  lie  so. —  I  knew  it  must 
come  to  this.  I  thought  it  a  Masted  had  sign  from  tl. 
ning,  when  he  was  so  willing  to  helieve  the  cappin  was  turned 
into  small  moat,  and  the  clippings  not  to  IK-  come  at.  There's 
more  of  them  sort  of  hawks  in  those  parts,  cappin,  if  'twas  worth 
any  white  man's  while  to  look  after  them." 

The  last  .sentence  was  spoken  with  particular  reference  to 
Ensign  Darcy,  and  the  eyes  of  the.  stout  landlord  were  fixed 
ipon  that  person  with  an  expression  of  equal  triumph  and 
threatening;  hut  neither  Darcy  nor  Morton  thought  it  advisahle 
to  perceive  the  occult  signification  of  his  glance.  The  occupa 
tions  of  the  latter,  meanwhile,  did  not  cease  with  the  act  of 
summary  authority  which  we  have  witnessed.  He  called  up  to 
him  an  individual  from  his  troop  whose  form  and  featu; 
what  resemhled  his  own  —  whose  general  intelligence  might 
easily  he  conjectured  from  his  features,  and  whose  promp- 
RI  emed  to  justify  the  special  notice  of  his  captain.  This  person 
he  addressed  as  lien  Williams  —  a  person  whom  the  landlord, 
:td  de.-ignated,  in  a  previous  chapter,  as  the  most  fitting 
to  succeed  their  missing  leader  in  the  event  of  his  loss.  That 
Morton  himself  entertained  some  such  opinion,  the  four 
's  will  show. 

11  Williams,"  he  said,  after  the  removal  oi  hnd  heon 

aflVcted  —  "there  is  a  g;ime  to  play  in  which  you  must  he  chief 
actor.  It  is  Decenary  th.it  y  3  should  take  my  place,  and  M-em 
for  a  while,  to  he  the  leader  of  the  I'.lack  tlidei'S.  The  motive 
for  this  will  he  explained  to  you  in  tin.'  more,  it  is  m>- 

-.,ry  that  J  should  seem  y«nr  prisoner.  You  u  ill  pml.ahly 
loon  have  a  prisoner  in  fact,  in  whose  sight  1  would  also  occupy 
the  same  situation.  Do  with  me  then  as  one.  —  Hark!  —  Thai 


i>  e .  Ifngga,  bai 

while,  until  everything  is  ieadv.     Now,  Wil 
liams,  be  quick ;    ;  :mis   and   hind  mo 

your  men  watch  me  with  pi>tolg 
cocked,  and    .-h  »W,  all    of  ytm,    tin-    appearance    oi    p'-i>":;>  who 

have    ju>t    ma>!e,    an    important    capture.      1    will    tell   ymi    : 

I'll    accr. 

r    to 
•    (lircctioiis.      The   outlaw  was  hound 

hulk   that  stood   in  a 
of  ti.'  :.i.  whih'  twr»  hlac-k-t'accd  tn"'jirrs    kfjit   watch   lu-- 

him.      The  .signal  was   repeated    iVom  with'Mit  ;    the   }>a: 

.t-ntly  oliist?.  at    hand.     The  chief  <.f 

the  0  i  :   uf  his  Mih.mliuntc.  Mich  larther 

instructio::  utial  to  his  oi'j 

••  K-  i    this  >ituation,  in   connection  witli   the  j«: 

—  should  he  he  hp'ii-ht  —  for   the  sj.are  of  an  hour.      hrt  D 

tliat    ^jiace  of  til.  us    then    he    separated. 

while  yon  •••.     We  slud!  then  be  better  able 

'enniin-  fur  the  fu' 

liurrie-1    jnejiarations    hein^    completed,    the    chief,    now 

!y  watched    and    stronglj-gtuurded    pri- 

»'ii    the   entrance,  and,  in    the   meantime, 

rca  t««  tl  .  i"M  of  a  well-grounded  dis- 

•n  \\ith  a  situation  eijually  unajijiifheinh'd  and    painful. 

i  •  '  '  -    not    >uch    a; 

It  \\ill  hi-  rriiii-mhi-reil   that,  when    lie    separated    from    his 

:I.:<M-  the  influence  of  feelings  of  a  in»>t  exciting  nature, 

he  1  pur,  and  dashed    forward   at    full 

in  hi>  pl.t  .     B  rapidity 

I'.nl  at    the    M                      .   would     i 

ired  him  I  -led.  and   his 

1]    and,  hy  tin-  time  that    his   treacherous   kiiiMiiau 
enahled  to  vend    the    t:  .    pur>uit.  hi>  i 

to    pick    hi>  \'  ;  !,  in    a    _.  '-d  to 

:nfort. 


80  TUK    SCOUT. 

The  consequence  was  inevitable.  The  pursuers  gained  rapidly 
upon  him,  and  owing  to  the  m-ise  occasioned  hy  the  ruin  pat 
tering  heavily  upon  the  leaves  al  out  him,  he  did  not  hear  the 
sound  of  their  horses'  feet,  until  escape  became  difficult.  At 
the  moment  when  he.  became  conscious  of  the  pursuit,  he  was 
taught  to  perceive  how  small  were  his  chances  of  escape  from 
it.  Suddenly,  he  beheld  a  strange  horseman,  on  each  side,  of 
him,  while  two  others  were  pressing  earnestly  forward  in  the 
rear.  None  of  them  could  have  been  fifty  yards  fYom  him  at 
the  moment  when  he  was  first  taught  his  danger.  The  kecn- 

3  of  the  chase,  the  sable  costume  which  the  pursuers  v, 
left  him  in  no  doubt  of  their  character  as  enemies;  and  with 
just  enough  of  the  sense  of  danger  to  make  him  act  decisively, 
tlu1  fearless  partisan  drew  forth  his  pistol,  cocked  it  without 
making  any  unnecessary  display,  and,  at  the  same,  time,  drove 
the  rowel  into  the  flanks  of  his  steed. 

A  keen  eye  sent  forward  upon  the  path  which  he  was  pursu 
ing,  enabled  him  to  see  that  it  was  t<>o  closely  covered  with 
woods  to  allow  him  to  continue  much  farther  his  present  rate,  of 
tlight,  and  with  characteristic  boldness,  he  resolved  to  turn  his 
course  to  the  right,  where  the  path  was  less  covered  with  under 
growth,  and  on  which  his  encounter  would  be  with  a  single  en 
emy  only.  The  conflict  with  him,  he  sanguinely  trusted,  might 
be  ended  before  the  others  could  come  up. 

The  action,  with  such  a  temperament  as  that  of  Clarence 
Coiiway,  ^as  simultaneous  with  the  thought;  and  a  few  mo 
ments  brought  him  upon  the  one  opponent,  while  his  sudden 
change  of  direction,  served,  for  a  brief  >pace,  to  throw  the  others 
out. 

The  trooper,  whom  he  thus  singled  out  for  the  struggle,  was 
a  man  of  coolness  and  courage,  but  one  scarcely  so  BtXOllf 
li;::b,  or  so  v.ell  OXCrcised  in  conflict,  as  the  partisan,  lie  readily 
Comprehended  the  purpose  of  the  latter,  and  his  <>\vn  i csohitioii 
was  taken  to  av:>id  the  light,  if  he  could,  and  vet  maintain  his 
relative  position,  during  the  pursuit,  with  the  ei.emy  he  chased. 
To  dash  aside  from  t!  push  forward  at  the  same, 

time,  was  his  design  ;  at  all  events,  to  keep  out  of  pistol-shot 
i',  i"'.    a  while   at   least,  yet  be  able,  at  any  moment,  to 


ivn  v    -  81 

b:in£  hi.-,  opjiMiient   within  ;  MII.      Such   a 

'..ryini:  the  flight  of  the  latter,  until  tl. 

•:p,  would  ivndt-r  the  cnptai  le. 

rafl  lint  siittered  to  pursue  tlsi- 

The  moment  ho  tin-  tnu-k,  Conway  da>hed 

.with    increased    c.,  particular  ea: 

Btween  the  individual  and  hi*  friends. 

lu   til  bo  seemed  to  drive  tlic  ntlu-r  hrf"'.e  him,  and,  as 

.ily  iiicrcasfd  undrr  tin  -tan- 

;ho  man  tlius  isolated  hccamc  anximis  ahout  liis  pn>:tinn,  and 

turtt     En  a  mutual  struggle  of  tliis  M  .ent 

depended  np«>n  tho  compai  iiy  of  tlio   two  IIOIM  s,  and 

horsc'iiifii,  "f  tin-   several  riders.      In  l.nth  re- 
be    ail  van:  with  Couway  ;  and  he  mi^ht    ! 
Biy  iiioveinent  of  his  enemy,  but  for  the  pp»x: 
of  those  who  were  now  i  :-.  beliind  him. 

:i»oiMen!  hrcainc  one  of  increr,.'-;:-g  fii;:.i(;ty.     '!'!.«  }'  v.-i-re 
approaching  rapidly  nigher,  and  ; -\rity  of  :  lieii 

r   was   too    considerable    to   h -;.\  e    him    a   s:i:<;!e    1; 
Slice-  iiould  lie  1  i  to  an  encnn:  th** 

If  of  them.     The  wits  of  the  >•  all  pnt 

tivity.     lie  soon  saw  that  he   D  e  indivi«hial  bei 

liini  .  ;,:sd  at  bay  a-'iinst 

an   attack   in  which  defemv 
stai;-  '.dilating 

of  ;:  from    either   taki: 

iliirht,  an  in  then  driving  :ii; 

ID  do\\n  !•' 

ust«  his  OWIL      1I(>   br.-i. 
:i.  ami  timed  his  movement 

•Mcket  presenting  itaetf  mam  -iiatrly  in  th 

man   before  him,  rendered    : 

ii  ili{z;ht. 
His  reckless  and  sudden  ]>1 

who  found  the  ^arti.^an   on    his  liaur.ches  at  a  time 
turn  :  ..ml  dillieult.     'i 

uaide  from  the  thicket  was  • 


SL  THE    SCOUT. 

himsclt,  who  naturally  inclined  to  the  more  opo-n  path  ;  but,  j 
under  these  circumstances,  in  his  agitation,  (he  trooper  endeav 
ored  to  incline  his  bridle  hand  to  the  opposite  side,  in  order  that 
he  might  employ  his  weapon.  The  conflict  between  his  steed's 
instinct  and  his  own,  rendered  his  aim  ineffectual.  His  pistol 
was  emptied,  but  in  vain  ;  and  the  rush  of  Conway's  horse  im 
mediately  followed.  The  shock  of  conflict  with  the  more  pow 
erful  animal,  precipitated  the  trooper,  horse  and  man,  to  the 
earth,  and  the  buoyant  partisan  went  over  him  with  the  rapid!?  > 
of  a  wind-current. 

A  joyous  shout  attested  his  consciou*no>s  of  safety  —  the 
outpourings  of  a  spirit  to  which  rapid  action  was  always  a 
delight,  and  strife  itself  nothing  more  than  the  exercise  of  I'.u-- 
nlties  which  seemed  to  have  been  expressly  adapted  for  all  its 
issues  of  agility  and  strength.  Secure  of  safety,  Con  way  now 
dashed  onward  without  any  apprehension,  and  exulting  in  the 
tulle.-1  ;  out,  in  a  moment  after,  he  had  shared 

t1  ••  forhUiO  of  him  he.  had  just  overthrown.  A  sudden  de 
cent  of  one  of  the  Wat. •;•«•<>  !  11-;  wa->  immediately  before  him, 
and  in  the  increasing  dimness  of  the  twilight,  and  under  the 
ripidii-.-  .  f  MS  H'gbt,  liu  did  not  ol serve  that  its  declivitv  of 
yrllo.,-  d  •  eu  freshly  washed  into  a  gulley.  Jlis  h  •  .;e 

piling--  i  forua.-'i  Mp.M.  fi>4  i'veptive  and  miry  surface,  ".ml  !<>,; 
h!s  footing.  A  scries  of  hu-fVocnial  plunges  which  ho  made  to 
foccver  himself,  only  brought  the  poor  beast  headlong  to  th.- 
>f  the  hill,  where  he  lay  half  stunned  and  shivering.  Ill- 
te-iith  had  broken  in  the  violent  muscular  efforts  which  he  i 
te  arrest  his  fall,  and  his  rider,  in  spi1  v  exertion  of  skill 

Hinl  strength,  was  thrown  forward,  anJ  fell,  though  with  litil.' 
•nj-::-y,  uj»on  the  yellow  clay  below,  lie,  had  barely  time  t"  re- 
Cf>ei  his  feet,  but  not  his  horse,  when  the,  pursuers  were,  upon 
l.ini.  Resistance,  under  existing  circumstances,  would  have  I 
vVoi'Fc  than  u-eless  ;  and  with  feelings  <•('  mortification,  much  !..•;. 
'niagined  than  described,  he  yielded  himself,  with  the  !.e>i 
j;oi,si!ile  grace,  to  the  hands  of  his  captors. 


88 


Oil  A  I'TK  R    V  I  ,  I 
Kun;n    USAGE    AMONG    Till-:    mi>i:i;v 

Mi\«i  a M\I{  exceed   tin-   Burprii  •     :iway, 

:. dueled  1-y  liis  eajitors  into  the  house  "f  MHL'_ 

held  tin-  .     ; ;      irdent  .-mil  misusjM.- 

6  rej-roached  liini  with  those   ili.ulits  which    lie   linti 
I'd  of  tlic   fidelity  of  tlic   lattrr.      He  IIM\V  womlrivil   at 
liiinsclf  I'm-   t:  nice  wliirli    lie    li;ul    ln-cn  dli 

li-lit  ;i!i.l  un>ati>r,  they  tln-n   ;ij.- 

.:j»iit.-iti(iiis  .-ijrain.st   Mm-  s<>  near  to  him  liy 

'  ;    ami  with  the  natural  rapi'lity  nf  the  generous  nature,  he 

I  enon,  thdM-  <>f  wliii-h 

Well    knew.    :  liltv. 

Qo  forgot  tl  ,  n-pmai-h  against   Iv! \\anl  < 

—  even  it'  he  was  i  .  ;i>  frieinlly  tn  the  ran- 

-that  he  had  1  >li,i\v  that  he  \\a>  iVinnlly 

to  that  of  h!>  country;   and,  in  that  nioinent  of  ^TIHT«.U>  t'. 
fiili'1  i-ondiR-t  of  tlie  I'uptivi',  in  relation  to 

:  from  his  nieniory. 

;   it    I"'  !  —  Is  nway,  that  I  tin.l  in  this 

\\hcn  —  t!ie   .sj.eaker  1 

..•(1  —  they  irere  !<•:•  Aether, 

"  V  j.ly.      "  .My  ill  ivputatimi  with  the 

•amend  me  to  anv  favor  with  the 
•  ;•." 

<•,  ilHluil-;: 

QO    other 

•  "f  their    discijiline  alreadv, 

-hall  juo  nn. re  he! 

w'l|l'  "•'••     I?  Bred   that   I   am  as 

'.eemed  a  t    TJ.       'I 
i-harjre  me  v,  ,•  Billing   king's  IDCD 


84  THK   SCOUT. 

anil  burning  their  houses,  stabbing  women  ana  rua.sting  children 
—  to  all  of  which  charges  I  have  pleaded  not  guilty,  though 
\\ith  very  little  chance  of  being  believed.  1  can  not  complain, 
however,  that  they  should  be  as  incredulous  in  my  behalf  as  my 
own  father's  son." 

"  Do  not  reproach  me,  Edward.  Do  me  no  injustice.  Yon 
••an  not  deny  that  circumstances  were  against  you,  so  strong  as 
almost  to  justify  belief  in  the  mind  of  your  father  himself.  If 
any  man  ever  straggled  against  conviction,  1  was  that  man." 

"Clarence  Conway,  yon  perhaps  deceive  yourself  with  that 
notion.  But  the  truth  is,  your  jealousy  on  the  subject  of  I«~h  ra 
Mi'ldleton  has  made  you  only  too  ready  to  believe  anything 
against  me.  But  I  will  not  reproach  you.  Nay,  I  have  resolved, 
believe  what  yon  may,  hereafter  to  say  nothing  in  my  defence 
or  justification,  1  have  done  something  too  much  of  this  alreadv 
for  my  own  sense  of  self-respect.  Time  must  do  the  rest — 1 
will  do  no  more." 

The  generous  nature  of  Clarence  deeply  felt  these  expres 
sions.  11  is  wily  kinsman  well  understood  that  nature,  and  de 
liberately  practised  upon  it.  He  listened  to  the  explanations 
and  assurances  of  the  former  with  the  doggedness  of  one 
who  feds  that  he  has  an  advantage,  and  shows  himself  : 
lute  to  keep  it.  Still  he  was  too  much  of  a  proficient  in 
the  knowledge  of  human  nature  to  overact  the  character. 
He  spoke  but  few  words,  lie  seldom  looked  at  his  brother 
while  he  spoke,  and  an  occasional  half-suppressed  sigh  be 
tokened  the  pains  of  a  spirit  conscious  of  the  keenest  wrong, 
yet  too  proud  even  to  receive  the  atonement  which  reminds  him 
of  it  An  expression  of  sorrow  and  sadness,  but  not  unkind] 
prevailed  over  his  features.  His  words,  if  they  did  not  betoken 
despondency,  yet  conveyed  a  feeling  almost  of  indifference 
v,1  hat  ever  might  betide  him.  The  language  of  his  look  seemed 
to  say  — 

"  Suspected  by  my  best  friends,  my  father's  son  among  them, 
it  matters  little  what  may  now  ln-i'all  me.  Let  the  em-my  do 
his  worst.  I  care  not  for  the.-e  bonds  —  I  care  for  nothing  that 
he  can  do." 

Nothing,  to  the  noble  heart,  is  so  afilicting  as  the  conscious 


ROUCH  i  Tin:  KIDKRS.  85 

ifness   the  suffering  of 
•  iir  injustice,  is  one  of  the 

human  i.  -  a  nature  of  this   order.     Such 

at  this  moment  in  the  bosom  of  Clarence  Comvay. 

II,';  «rthe  and  to  appetae  the  resentment! 

.  with  all  the  solicitude  of  truth. 

••  Believe    me,   '.  I  could  not  well  think   otherwise  than 

ve  thought,  or  than  I  have  dune.      You  surely  can 

-•if  in  a  false  p..siti-.n.      It  would 
•    hcen  wonderful,  indeed,  if  your  course   had  not  incurred 

ie  fiiend>hip  seldom   suspects,  and   is  the  last  to  yield  to 
•IB  airainst    the  hreast    it   loves. 

But  '  more  on  this  suhject,  Clarence.      It  has  always 

D  a  painl'i  !  ::ie;   and  ju-t  n->w,  passing,  as  1  may  say, 

fmm  .re.  (o  aii'ither,  it  is  particularly  so.      It  is 

perhaps,  uni:-  -ituated   as   we   are,  that  we    should   any 

iUs  «>f  the  jiast  may  In-  as  nothing  to 
the  :'  the  future.      If  this  handitti  be  as  you  have 

>hall    have    little    time    allowed  us    to    discuss 

the  pa.st  ;   and.  i'-ir  the  future! " 

II 

me,  Kdward,  it  makes  me  far  Iir.ppier  to  soo 

;;il  the  'langeis  wliicli  \]lt-\ 
.  the  accursed  suspiei  >u  that  y.Mi  were  tLe 
•  his  han-l! 

••  1   '  — indeed  I  thank  you  very  much  —  for  not!. in;;  ! 

i  hear    n;o   say  that    your   situHti-iii  y'h  ids 

mo  i.  ireei  of  happiness  and  congratnlaii  <u 

•  1  Hi  v  >  ;  mi>undei>tan«l  n. 

Wh.at  !          :  i  speak  BO  bitt 

rhftpfl; — but  ju>t    i:"\v,  •. 'larence.  mv    thought.; 
\eet,  and  mn-. 

U)  v,  hat    :  i 'lit   I 

begged    th;it  —all    nubjevts  —  :•.{ 

'    i   .  nit-thing  might  bo 


86  THE  SCOUT. 

spoken  by  one  or  both  which  wouhl  make  us  think  more  iu> 
kindly  of  each  other  than  before,  —  which  would  increase  the 
gulf  between  us." 

"  I  think  not  unkindly  of  you,  Edward.  I  regret  what  I  have 
ppoken  unkindly,  though  under  circumstances  which,  I  still  in 
sist,  might  justify  the  worst  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  the  best  of 
friends.  There  is  no  gulf  between  us  now,  Kdward  Com 

"  Ay,  but  there  is;  an  impassable  one  for  both  —  a  barrier 
which  we  have  built  up  with  mutual  industry,  and  which  must 
stand  between  us  for  ever.  Know  you  Flora  3Iiddh-t«»n  .'  Ha! 
Do  you  understand  me  now,  Clarence  Conway  ?  I  see  you  do 
—  you  are  silent." 

Clarence  was,  indeed,  silent.  Painful  was  the  conviction  that 
made  him  so.  He  felt  the  truth  of  what  his  brother  had  spoken. 
He  felt  that  there  WY/.V  a  gulf  between  them;  and  he  felt  also 
that  the  look  and  manner  of  his  kinsman,  while  he  spoke  the 
name,  together  with  the  tone  of  voice  in  which  r  ken, 

had  most  unaccountably,  and  most  immeasurably,  enlarged  that 
gulf.  AVhat  could  be  the  meaning  of  this'/  What  was  that 
mysterious  antipathy  of  soul  which  could  comprehend  so  instantly 
the  instinct  hate  and  bitterness  in  that  of  another  ?  Clarence 
felt  at  this  moment  that,  though  his  suspicions  of  Edward  Con- 
vay,  as  the  chief  of  the  Mack  Kiders,  were  all  dissipated  by  the 
•i'lii  in  which  he,  found  him,  yet  he  loved  him  still  less  than 
before.  The  tie  ••:!'  1  lood  was  weakened  yet  more  than  ever, 
:  curr.  nts  were  boiling  up  in  either  breast,  with 
1  ippn -".MM!  hut  inci  easing  hostility. 

The  pause  was  long  and  painful  which  ensue  i  between  thei  i. 
V    length  Clarence  broke  the  silence.     His  manner  w^s  *ub- 
lued,  but  the  soul  within  him  v/as  strengthened.     Tl. 
f  his  kinsman  had  not  continued  to  its  judicious  as  it 

oenibl  at  the  beginning.  It  had  been  a  wiser  policy  had  he 
«irb<.iiie  even  the  intimation  of  reproach  —  Lad  he  assumed  an 
i-pect  of  greater  kindness  and  love  toward  his  companion  in 
misfortune,  and  striven,  by  a  gtndioufl  display  of  cheerfulness,  to 
,jiove  to  his  brother  that  he  vas  only  apprehensive  le.st  the  situ- 
ition  in  which  the  latter  had  found  him  might  tend  too  much  to 
tiis  OV.-D  self-reproach. 


A.MoX  ,    THE    RIDERS. 

.  would  ha\  e  been  tin-  com 

should  have    been    the   course   of  one   t..\\  ard  a  g-  :i.-ii(l. 

•  :ch  a  moment,  would  have  been  the 

:  of  the  presence  of  a  real  kindness.      Hut  it  \vas  in  this  verv 

particular   that    tlie    mi:i«l  of  Kdward    (.'miwav    \\as    weak.      He 

selfish  a  man   to   kno\v  what   magnanimitv  is.      He  did 

.iprehend  tlie  nature  of  the  man  lie  addn 

and,  though  the  situation  in  which   tlie  latter  found   him  had  its 
••:    the  policy,  which    he    subsequently  pursued,  most  ef- 
.ally  defeated    many  of  the   moral   advantages    which    ; 
have    resulted  to  him,  in   the  mind  of  his  brother,  from  a  more 
'  train  of  conduct. 

reference   to    Flora    Middleton    placed    Clarence   on   his 
1.      It    reminded   him  that  there  were   more  grounds  of  dif- 
•fii    himself  and    kinsman    than   lie   had   been  just 
.epared  to    remember.      It   reminded   him  that  Kdward 
had    been   guilt}   of  a   mean   evasion,  verv  like  a  E 
.  in  .-peaking  of  this   lady;    and  this   remembrance    revi 
all  his  former  personal  distrusts,  however   hu-hed  now  migl. 
all  snrli  as  \\ere    purely  political.      Kdw; 

that  he  had  made  a  false  move  in  tl..  «•  moment  that  his 

.-•d  his    speech.       11  fa   I,,  j,(.r. 

he    vainly  then   migl.'  Q   to 

.eamvhile,   j,r..  Hows,  with    a 

erity  of  manner,  which    proved  that,  on  one  subject  at 

ould  neither  he  abused  nor  trilled  with. 

••  V-  ;  have  named  I'l-u-a  Mid..  w*y.     With 

Ted      1    -•  e   it    to  my  o\\ .  ,,  t.j; 

worth,  that  it   should    not   be   spoken  with  in. 

What  purpose  do  you  jMoj.o>t.  by  naming  her  to  me,  at  this  mo- 
'.  and  with  such  a  - 

6  outlaw  assumed  a  b-lder  lom-  and  a  higher  pusitJ,,n  i\ 
•  k  when  the  p  in 

'.vamp.      TJie.re  was    ;n.  'iance  in  hi-  manner,  as  he 

replied,  which  ai 

for  the    ti: 
that   I  h  .      . 

"  Ha!  — Is  it  *..  I  — Well!" 


88  THE   SCOUT 

"It  is  even  so!  I  love  Flora  Midclleton — as  1  long  have 
loved  her." 

"  You  arc  bold,  Edward  Conway  !  Am  I  to  understand  from 
this  that  you  propose  to  urge  your  claims  ?" 

"  One  does  not  usually  entertain  such  feelings  without  some 
hope  to  gratify  them ;  and  I  claim  to  possess  all  the  ordinary 
desires  and  expectations  of  humanity." 

"  Be  it  so,  then,  Edward  Conway,"  replied  Clarence,  with  a 
strong  effort  at  composure.  "But,"  he  added,  "  if  I  mistake 
not,  there  was  an  understanding  between  us  on  this  .subject. 
You—" 

"Ay,  ay,  to  pacify  you  —  to  avoid  strife  with  my  father's  son, 
Clarence  Conway,  I  made  some  foolish  promise  to  subdue  my 
own  feelings  out  of  respect  to  yours  —  some  weak  and  unmanly 
concessions  !'' 

"  Well !     Have  you  now  resolved  otherwise]" 

"  Why,  the  truth  is,  Clarence,  it  is  something  ridu-'ilous  for 
cither  of  us  to  be  talking  of  our  future  purposes,  \vm\-  in  such  a 
predicament  as  this.  Perhaps  we  had  better  be  at  oar  prayers, 
preparing  lor  the  worst.  If  half  be  true  that  is  said  of  these 
Black  Kiders,  a  short  shrift  and  a  sure  cord  are  the  most  prob 
able  of  their  gifts.  We  need  not  quarrel  about  a  woman  on  the 
edge  of  the  grave." 

"  \\Yre  death  sure,  and  at  hand,  Edward  Conway,  my  prin 
ciples  should  be  equally  certain,  and  expressed  without  fear 
Am  I  to  understand  that  you  have  resolved  to  disregard  mj- 
Buperior  claims,  and  to  pursue  Flora  Middleton  with  your  atten 
tion- 

"  Viuir  superior  claims,  Clarence/'  replied  the  other,  "consist 
biniply,  if  1  understand  the  matter  rightly,  in  your  having  seen 
tin-  lady  before  myself,  and  by  so  many  months  only  having  the 
start  of  me  in  our  mutual  admiration  of  her  charms.  1  have  not 
ied  that  she  has  given  you  to  suppose  that  she  regards  you 
with  more  favor  than  she  do,  a  myself." 

A  warm  flush  passed  over  the  before  pale,  features  of  Clarence 
Coins  ay.  His  lip  was  agitated,  and  its  quivering  only  suppressed 
l»y  a  strong  effort. 

"  Enough,  air  !"  he  exclaimed — "  we  understand  each  other." 


ROUGH     USAGE    A.Mo.V.     1 1  IK    UIUKIIS. 

'hahly  9OD16  little,  mockery  in  the  mooil  of  Ed- 
ward  »  if  In-  nrired  the  matter  t->  a  further  point. 

"  I>ut    let    me  /•;/.•/>/•.  Clarence.      Something  of  my  own  course 
will  certainly  depend —  that  is,  if  I  am  ever  a-ain  free  from  the 

clutches  of  these "     The  sentence  was  left  unfinished  hy  the 

ker,  as  if  through  an  apprehension  that  lie  might  have  more 
auditors  than  the  one  he  addressed.     He  renewed  the  - 
cautiously  omitting  the  offensive  member:  — 

"Something  of  my  course,  Clarence,  will  surely  deceit! 
my  knowledge  of  your  claims.     If  they  are  superior  to  min< 
to  those  of  a  thousand  others  —  if  she  has  given  you  to  under 
stand  that  she  has  a  preference " 

The  Hush  increased  upon  the  cheek  of  the  younger  kinsman 
as  he  replied  — 

"  Let  me  do  her  justice,  sir.     It  is  with  some  sense  of  shame 
that  I  speak  again  of  her  in  a  discussion   cuch    as  this. 
Middleton  has  given  me  no  claim  —  she  has  shown  me  no  pivfer- 

uch  as  1  could  build  upon  lor  an  instant.     i'mt,  my  claim 

on  ijnu,  Kdward  Conway.      You  were   carried   by  me  to  her 
'.ling.     She  was   made  known   to  you  \>\ 
this  was  done,  I  had   declared    to    ytsti    my  own  deep  U 
her.     You  saw  into  the  secret   and  >aered  plans  of  my  heart  — 
you  heard  from  my  o.wn  lips  the.  extent  of  my  affection  for  her; 
and  —  but  I  can  speak  n«»  more  of  this  without  anger,  and  I 
here   is   impotence.     T  .  Kdward   <  ' 

assert  your  desires  AS  you   may.      1:  •.  ard   I   under- 

and  on  thN  Mihjf-t  1  eg  to  '. 
Edward  Conwi  Mwilling  that  further  dl- 

'.oiild   cease,      lit-  had  etl'eeted  t:  whirh  In- 

aimed  at  \\hen    he   limai-hed   it;   and  tacitly  it  was  felt    bv 

•hat   words   \\  en-   1,0   1-  ap.iii-.  in 

such   an    argumi-nt    as    theirs.     Th.- 
either,   and    the    t.  iptivcs   sat    apart,  their 

:ig. 

Tlie  hour  had  ela;»r  1  Wrhil  b,  •'•    the  : 

the   outlaw  chief,  ha-!    been    accorded    t«»   the    intn 
himself  and  kinsman.      The   "!,jr,-t   of  his, 
lieved,  been  fully  answered  ;   .-uid,  ;. 


BO  THE   SCOUT. 

Williams  his  counterfeit  presentment  made  his  appearance,  with 
all  due  terrors  of  authority,  clad  in  sahle,  savage  in  hair  and 
beard,  with  a  Wow  clothed  in  gloomy  and  stern  purposes,  and  as 
if  prepared  to  pronounce  the  doom  which  the.  fearful  reput-ition 
i-f  the  lilack  Riders  might  well  have  counselled  the  innocent 
pri.-oi:rr  to  expect.  1'ut  something  furtlier  of  the  farce  remained 
to  U1  played  out,  and  Clarence  ('omvay  was  the  curious  witness 
t«>  a  long  examination  to  which  his  fellow-prisoner  was  subject 
ed,  (lie  ohject  of  wliieh  seemed  to  he  to  establish  the  fact  that. 
Edward  Toms  ay  was  himself  a  most  inveterate  rehel.  A  part 
of  this  examinatitm  may  he  given. 

"  You  do  not  deny  that  your  name  is  Conwny  I" 

"  I  do  not,"  was  the  reply. 

loiiel  (  'oiiway,  of  Sum'  '         ;de  T' 

"Jam  Colonel  Conway,  of  Sumter's  I'rigade,"  said  Clarence, 
interposing. 

"Time  enough  to  answer  for  yourself  when  you  are  asked! 
—  that  story  Vion't  go  down  with  us,  my  good  fellow,"  sternly 
exclaimed  the  acting  chief  of  the  handitti.  "  Shumway,"  h' 
claimed,  tnrnin-  to  a  suhordinate,  "why  the.  d — 1  were  these 
,1 — ,1  ivhels  put  together  .'  Tliey  have  heen  coukin^  uj»  a  story 
hetween  them,  and  haii-'in^  m>\v  will  hardly  ^et  the,  truth  out 
ither!  \Ve'll  see  what  Mi'.^'s  can  tell-us.  lie  should  know 
this  fellow  Conway." 

hiirirs  has  ^-oiie  t««  heil,  sil'." 

"Wake  him  uj)  and  turn  him  out,  at  the  invitation  of  a  rope's 
end.  I'm  suspicious  that  Muj^s  is  half  a  rehel  himself,  he's 
lived  so  long  in  this  rascally  neighborhood,  and  must  he.  1  >oked 

Shumway  disappeared,  and  the.  examination  proceeded. 
"  1  ><)  you  still  deny  that  you  are  Colonel  Coiiuay,  of  Sumter's 
Fie  ware    is-.w  of  your   answer — we.  ha\e  other  r-'hels 
ro  (-"HJVont  you  witli." 

'Die  (jiiestion  was  still  addressed  to  the  elder  of  the    kinsmen. 

11'    .  •;.!-.  MTSS  made  with  grave  compomire.    "  I  do.    ^Iy  name  is 

as  I   declai'ed  to  you  hrfore  ;    Imt   I  am  n«.t  of  Sumte: 's 
liri^ade,  nor  of  an\  1  am  not  a  colonel,  and  never  hope 

to  he,  made  ono." 


ROU(i  91 

:  with  that  d — d  {tack  of  lies, 

do  you,  :•  f  all  the  -  Hut  you  are 

.      I    wouldn't  .!    copper  for  tin-  safety 

of  your  skin,  <• 

•he   conn:  .    K'ltleil^c  of  South  Carolina 

will  "W  who  is.  ami  who   is  not,  Col 

of  Suinte.  the  second  interruption  of 

und  in  nn 

;  what  will  that   p.  hut   that   it   has 

ro  tlu1  oti  :i  wanted  it.     Your 

',!  known  make-shir  .  ami 

-.veil  their  value  to  put   much   faith   in   them,      l^ut 

who 

lonel  —  can  v  what 

it    \\ill    c  •  ihl'>h    tl.  >v   that    a 

;ir  first   haltin  ud  your  first 

•iiink  to  terrif'.  .:ch  threats,  you  are  mistaken 

in  y  ."  repliol  (  ,  \\ith  features  which   amph 

le  scorn  within  his  hosoin  ;   "and  if  you  dare  to 

'i  a>;  little  know  the  men  of 

:  whom  would  promptly  peril  his 

own  life  t  1  and  hloody  retrihution  for  the  deed.      I 

ain  Colo;,  y,  and,  dog  of  a  toiy,  I  <let'y  you,      D«»  your 

:o  notliinir  of  the  sort  you  threaten. 
d  sj>it  upon  you." 

•law  hlackeiied  :  —  Chi: 

••  H.v  We   shall  Bee.      Shumv. 

!  — you  ti.:  '  la-t 

;ndiels,  to  tlie   nearest 

sajilin::.  and   let    him    -r  .    in   the  wind.      To   yi.ur   « 

villains  — 

'    the  rnil'a: 

•::in^ 
d    which    l;e   had    not    heen  willing   to    he'. 

:lC88 

1  1     .     ;j:  fcQ]     ':' 

Uie    .  ll'-*li;a'.- 


92  TMK 

for  no  delay  —  lie  simply  denounced  against  them  the  ven-vanco 

of  his  command, and  that  of  his  reckless  commander,  whose  fiery 

energy  of  soul  and  rapidity  <>f  execution  they  well  knew. 

His  language  tended  still  farther  -rate  the  peivon  wli- 

acted  in  the  capacity  of  the  outlaw  chief.  Furiou>ly.  as 
second  the  Subordinates  in  the  awful  duty  in  which  they  seemed 
to  him  to  linger,  he  grasped  the  throat  of  Clarence  Oonwaywith 
his  own  hands,  and  proceeded  to  drag  him  forward.  lie  did  not 
see  the  significant  gesture  of  head,  glance  of  eye.  and  impatient 
movement  of  Edward  Conway,  while  he  thundered  out  his  t 
mands  and  corses.  The  latter  could  not,  while  set-king  to  pre 
serve  the  new  character  in  which  he  had  placed  him-elf,  t;ik»' 
any  more  decided  means  to  make  his  wishes  understood;  and  il 
tvas  with  feelings  of  apprehension  and  annoyance,  new  even  to 
himself,  that  he  beheld  the  prompt  .  <  whom  he  had  in 

trusted  the  temporary  command,  ahoiit  to  perform  a  deed  which 
ret   and  mysterious  something  in  his  soul  would  not  permit 
him   to  authorize  or  hehold,  however  much  he  might  !. 
willing  to  reap  its  pleasant  fruits  when  done. 

Then-  was  evidently  no  faltering  in  the  fearful  purpose  of  his 
repiv.M-ntative.  Everything  was  serious.  He  wa^  too  familiar 
with  such  deeds  to  make  him  at  all  heedful  of  consequences; 
and  the  proud  bearing  of  the  youth;  the  unmitigated  scorn  in 
his  looks  and  language;  the  hateful  words  which  he  had  i: 
and  the  threats  which  he  had  denounced  ;  while  ti.  :  era- 

ted  all   around,  almost   maddened    the    ruilian    in    command,  to 
whom  such  defiance  was  new,  and  with  whom  the  taking  of  life 
I  circumstance  equally  familiar  and  indiuV. 

"Three  minutes  fur  prayer  is  all   the  grace  I  give  him  !"  ha 
cried,  hoarsely,  as  he  helped  the  subordinates  to  drag  the 
tined  victim  toward  the  door. 

These  were  the  last   words   he   was   allowed   to  utter.      Ho 
himself  was   not    allowed    a   single    minute. 

•Carcely  Spoken,  when  be  fell   prostrate  on   \\'  Tit-ken  in 

the  mouth  by  a  rifle-bullet,  which  entered   through   an  aperture 
in  the   wall    opposite.     His    blond    and    '  ;  ;ittered    th^ 

breast  of  Clarence  Conway   whom  his  falling  body  also  bors  to 
the  floor  of  the  apartment. 


93 

without  followed  the  >liut,  and  r 

and  j  '.   the   clamor  within.      In  that  shout  ( 

enco  could  not  doubt  that  he  hoard  the  manly  voice  of  the.  faith 
ful  Jack  Bannister,  and  the  deed  spoke  for  itself.     It  could  1 
hen,  the  deed  of  a  friend  only. 


CHAPTER    IX 

A    CRISIS. 

Tin:    M-n.satiiin   pi<  I   all    the.   parties    l.y   tin.;   I 

ke  of  retribution  was  indescribable.     The  fate  of  Clarence 
Mi-pended   i-.r  a  while.      The   execntio: 

:    their  ho'd   nji..n   the  pri>oi;,-r  ;   all   tlieir 
mindly    paralyzed   in   amazement    and   alarm. 
,  with    the   in>tinct   of  an   ancient  habit, 
turned    upon    Kdward    dmway.       II",   too,   had    partaken,   to   a 

irrce,  of  the  excitement   of  the  Keae.      '1  bfl    old  1 
•  niinand    reolitaiiunl   t!  iency.     He   furgot,   for  the 

int,   the    :  i    in   vhich    lie   stood;    the 

;  whieh  he  played,  and  all   the    ^rave    inuinniery  1-1 
;isc.     Starting  to  1 

.^•uted  aloud   ill   the  langua: 
authority. 

•id  follow.      \V!.y  do  yon  gape  and   1 
I'm  i.     Let  him  not  escape  yon  !      Away!" 

]!••    WU   f.heyed    l.y  all    the,    troupi-:->    preMBlt      '1 
headlon:;  from   the  dwelling  M'iti. 
brothers,  still   hound,  were   left    alone  togerhrr.      Tltr  ; 

B 

of  the  wily  game  he  had  been  playing  the  moment  th. 
his  feet  and   issued   his  commands.     Tin- 
is    upon    his    amis,  when    he  would  h. 
them  to  his  men,  ln-might  hark  all    1 .'.  .1 

he  felt   h'-  error,  and   apprehended    ti 


94  TIIK    SCOUT. 

naturally  turned  in  search  of  his  kinsman,  who  stood  erect,  <* 
surprised  but  calm  spectator. 

He  had  witnessed  the,  action,  had  seen  the  excitement,  and 
heard  the  language  of  Edward  Conway;  hut  these  did  not 
seem  to  him  too  extravagant  for  the  temper  of  moved, 

who  was  yet  innocent  of  any  improper  connection  with  the 
criminals.  The  circumstances  which  had  taken  place  were 
Milliciently  exciting  to  account  for  these  ebullitions,  without 
awakening  any  suspicions  of  *.he  truth.  It  is  true  that  the 
fierce  command,  so  familiarly  addressed  to  the  robbers  by  their 
prisoner,  did  seem  strange  enough  io  the  unsuspecting  Clarence ; 
hut  even  this  was  natural  enough.  Nor  was  it  less  so  that  they 
should  so  readily  oboj  orders  coining  from  any  li}»s  which,  to 
them,  conveyed  so  c"nvc-tly  the  instructions  to  their  duty.  l>e- 
sides,  the  claim. r,  the  uproar,  the  confusion  and  hubbub  of  the. 
scene)  not  to  speak  of  those  conflicting  emotions  under  which 
Clarence  Conway  sr.-flered  at  a  moment  so  full,  seemingly,  of 
the  last  peril  t:»  himseY,  served  to  distract  his  senses  and  impair 
the  just  powers  of  judgriont  in  his  mind.  He  felt  that  Kdward 
Conway  had  acted  unexp.  ^tedly  —  had  shown  a  singular  activi 
ty  which  did  not  seem  exact'y  called  for,  and  was  scarce  due  to 
those  in  whose  behalf  it  was  displayed;  but,  making  due  allow 
ance  for  the  different  effects  o_"  fright  and  excitement  upon  dif 
ferent  temperaments,  he.  did  not  regard  his  conduct  as  strange 
or  unnatural,  however  unr.ecosS'-ry  it  might  seem,  and,  perhap.-, 
impolitic.  It  was  the  first  thought  in  his  mind  that  Kdward 
Conway,  in  his  great  agitation,  did  not  seem  to  recollect  that 
the  assassination  which  had  taken  place  was  probably  the  only 
event  which  could  then  have  sa^ed  his  life. 

These    reflections    did    not    (-.•cur   to    the  mind    of  the   latter. 
Conscious  of  equal  guilt  and  indiscretion,  the  apprehension* 
Kdward  Couwav  were  all  awakened  for  his  secret.      Ti  • 
Mid   suspicions  glance  which    he  watched    in    the    ey< 
man,  and  which   had    its  ori-in    in   a   portion  of  tlie  previous 
conference   between   tlr.m,  he  was   at  once   reads   to   a 
the  discovery,  by  the  latter,  of  his  own  crimin.  '  vith 

the  outlaws.  In  his  anxiet\  ,  he  was  not  aware  that  he  had  not 
said  enough  to  declare  his  true  character  —  that  he  had  only 


\  oftie 

Ahich  any  citi/m  mi-ht   employ  \\ithoi.- 
<">  ;  .  Mm   and 

nviction   that    In-  had    IP.  | 

tin-    whole    truth    l»y    his    imprudence,    that    the    resolution    i:; 
mil:  rtly    form  himself    Itoldly   and  bid    de- 

What    had     he    nmv  to    1 
lti>     irilural     n tl<  rti-n.        Why    slmuM    he    strive   1 

•h  one  wilh  whom   he  muM    inevitably  break  in  the  end? 

Ufl  rival,  his  enemy,  and   was  in  his   p. 

II-    had  already  felt  the  humiliation   resultiiiL:  l'r<>m   the  unbecomini: 

::i«'iis  in   which   he  stood  to  him.     He  had  bowed    to 

him.  when  he  felt  how  much    mere  grateful  would   be   the  mood   to 

Lh  him.      He  had  displayed  the  .-mile  of  c.^iciliation,  when. 

in  his   IK  art.    he    felt    all  the  bill.  .  Why 

maintain  appearance-  with  one  from  whom 

; -'.     Why  DOt,  by  a 

.  in   the  !  i  an,-,  the 

:   in   which   he    >:.„„!    equally  to   his   country  and  hi- 

"ild    amply    a< count    for    the    pa-t  ,    and.    in 

iii'-h    the  of     that    day     foui. 

their    adiieivnee    to    the  ..untry,    he    i: 

;u    all    tl  ition    due    to  one,  what 

'it.    who  draws  hi*    MVOH!   in   b-.-half  of  IIN 

princi] 

irawn  from  the  seemin-  : 
-•-.I  throuLTh  the  mind  of   Kdward 
v  of  nun-led   surprise  and  di-<miet  in 
.iiiMnan.      Hut  they  were  not   conclu-ive.      Tliev 
b\  tin-  la-t  lin-_  humanity  and 

m.  and  more  than  that. 
•  <1  him  a  life. 

ond    thoughts  "  his  myr- 

from    ti,  '\'\\\\\    ihe 

not    far    «,|T    -, 


96  nn:  SCOUT. 

natural  reflection  .»f  every  mind,  after  the  sudden  and  feaifui 
death  of  him  who  had  been  the  chosen  representative  of  theii 
chief.  That  the  shot  which  slew  Williams  was  meant  for  the  chief 
of  the  Black  Riders,  was  his  own  reflection ;  and  it  counselled 
continued  prudence  for  the  present.  The  game"  which  he  p-->- 
posed  in  the  prosecuting  his  purposes  equally  with  Flora  Middle- 
ion  and  his  brother,  was  best  promoted  by  his  present  forbear- 
ance  —by  his  still  continuing,  at  least  while  in  the  presence  of 
Clarence  Conway,  to  preserve  his  doubtful  position  as  a  prisoner. 

lie  sank  back,  accordingly,  upon  the  bulk  from  which  he  had 
arisen  in  the  first  moment  of  the  alarm.  His  efforts  were 
addressed  to  the  task  of  composing  his  features,  and  assuming- 
the  subdued  aspect  of  one  who  stands  in  equal  doubt  and  ap 
prehension  of  his  fate.  Some  moments  of  anxiety  elapsed,  in 
which  neither  of  the  kinsmen  spoke.  Clarence,  in  the  mean 
time,  had  also  resumed  his  seat.  He  no  longer  looked  toward 
his  companion.  His  heart  was  filled 'with  apprehension,  in  which 
his  own  fate  had  no  concern.  lie  trembled  now  for  the  life  of 
the  faithful  woodman  —  fi.r  he  did  not  doubt  that  it  was  he  — 
who  had  tracked  his  footsteps,  and  so  promptly  interfered  at  the 
hazard  of  his  own  life,  to  exact  that  of  his  enemy.  The  senses 
of  the  youth  were  sharpened  to  an  intense  keenness.  He  could 
hear  the  distant  clamors  of  the  hunt  without.  The  shouts  and 
shrieks  of  rage,  breaking,  as  they  rose,  far  above  the  rush  of 
the  winds  and  the  monotonous  patterings  of  the  rain.  lie  was 
roused  from  an  attention  at  once  painful  and  unavoidable  by  the 
accents  of  his  kinsman. 

"Clarence!"  said  the  latter,  "  this  is  a  terrible  affair — the 
murder  of  this  man  !" 

"  Scarcely  so  terrible  to  me  ;"  was  the  cold  reply — "  it  pro 
longed  my  life  —  the  wretch  would  have  murdered  me,  and  1 
look  upon  his  corse  without  horror  or  regret !" 

"  Impossible  !  His  purpose  was  only  to  intimidate  —  he  would 
ne.ve.r  have  dared  the  commission  of  such  a  crime.'' 

"You  are  yet  to  learn  the  deeds  of  the  P>!ack  Riders ;  you 
know  no!  how  much  such  outlawed  wretches  will  dare  in  the 
very  desperation  of  their  boo-*-  " 

"That  was  a  dreaaiiu  aeea,  m.wi-ver;  —  so  swift,  so  su<V 


A    OB  i* 

I  confess  it  almost  unmanned  inc.     I   fi-1- 
I  know  not  what  I  said." 

"So  I  thought,"  replied  Clarence,  "for  you  actually  shouted 
to  the  wretche*  t«>  pursue  the  murderer,  and  he,  too,  that  noMe 
fellow,  Jack  Bannister.  He  has  stood  between  D  •  rath 

•.     You  also,  Edward  Conway,  owe  him  a  life." 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  he,  Clarence  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.     I  am  sure  of  his  halloo." 

"If  they  catch  him!—" 

"God  forbid  that  they  should  !" 

"If  they  should  not,  we  shall  probably  pay  for  his  boldi.< 
They  will  wreak  their  fury  on  our  heads,  if  they  be  the  blood} 
wretches  that  you  describe  them." 

"  I  am  prepared    for  the  worst.     I    am  their  prisoner,  but  1 
fear  nothing.     I,  at  least,  Edward  Conway,  am   somewhat  pro- 
;  by  the  rights  and  usages  of  war;   but  you — " 

41  Much  good  did  these  rights  promiM-  yon  a  few  mil. 
baid  the  other,  .-arca.-tically,  "unless  my  conjecture  be  the  right 
one.  According  to  your  notion,  precious  little  respect  would 
11  have  had  for  the  usages  of  war.  Their  own  usages, 
by  you  own  eft  wing,  have  long  since  legitimated  hanging  and 
burning,  and  such  small  prac 

••  I   ,!:ould   sin;  irished   unavenged.      Nay,  yu 

•,v  closely  tne  avenger  follows  upon  the  footsteps  of  the 
criminal.  For  every  drop  of  my  blood  shed  unlawfully,  there 
would  be  a  fearful  drain  from  the  heart  of  every  prisoner  in  the 
hands  of  Sumter." 

"That,  methinks,  were  a  sorry  satisfaction  To  me,  I' con 
less,  it  would  aftord  very  little  pleasure  to  be  told,  while  1  ,\j. 
swinging,  that  some  one  or  more  of  my  .  \v311  shai 

('tween  tin-  !'..  may 

•lii-ir  mutual  satisfaction.      M.  would,  o. 

oib  :'   Styx,  derive    small    comlmt    from    beholding    the 

ghoht  of  my  foe  following  close   behind  me.  with  a  neck  h, 
a  like  ugly  twist  uith  my  own,  which  he  admits  having  lece.ived 
on  my  account." 

"Tl  I  bald  one   that's   born   under   the  gallows,"  re 

j/lie  1  Clarence,  gravely,  with  a  whig  proverb. 


98  THE   SCOUT. 

"  Ay,  but  I  am  not  there  yet,"  replied  the  oilier  ;  "  and,  will- 
God's  blessing,  I  hope  that  the  tree  and  day  are  equally  i'a1 
distant  which  shall  witness  such  an  unhappy  suspension  of  mj 
limbs  and  labors." 

"  If  'I  stand  in  such  peril,"  replied  Clarence  Conway,  "  hold 
ing  as  I  do  a  commission  from  the  state  authorities,  I  can  no; 
understand  how  it  can  be  that  you  should  escape,  having,  un 
happily,  no  such  sanction,  and  being  so  much  more,  in  dangei 
from  their  suspicion.  I  sincerely  trust  that  you  will  escape, 
Edward  Conway ;  but  you  see  the  perilous  circumstances  in 
which  you  are  placed  by  your  unhappy  neglect  of  the  proper 
duties  to  your  country  and  yourself." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Clarence,  that  your  commission  will  hardly 
prevail  upon  them  to  make  any  difference  in  their  treatment  of 
us." 

"  And  yet,  I  wish  to  Heaven  Edward  Conway,  that  both  of 
my  father's  sons  were  equally  well  provided." 

"Do  you  really  wish  it,  Clarence?" 

"  From  my  soul  I  do,"  was  the  reply.  "  Gladly  now,  could 
I  do  so,  would  1  place  my  commission  in  your  hands." 

"  Indeed !  would  you  do  this,  Clarence  Conway  I  Are  yoa 
serious?"  demanded  the  elder  kinsman,  with  looks  of  consider 
able  interest  and  surprise. 

"  Serious  !  Do  you  know  me  s;>  little  as  to  make  such  an 
inquiry!  Would  I  trifle  at  such  a  moment  with  any  man?  — 
Could  I  trifle  so  with  a  kinsman  ?  No  !  Bound  as  we  both  are, 
the  desire  is  idle  enough;  but,  could  it  be  done,  Edward  Con- 
way,  freely  would  I  place  the  parchment  in  your  hands  with  ali 
the  privileges  which  belong  to  it." 

"  And  you " 

"Would  take  my  risk  —  would  defy  them  to  the  last  —  and 
rely  upon  their  fears  of  that  justice  which  would  certainly  follow 
any  attempt  upon  my  life  while  I  remain  their  prisoner." 

The  chief  of  the  Black   Riders   rose  from   the   bulk  on  whirli 
lie  had  been  seated,  and  twice,  thrice,  he    paced   the  q>art;nent 
without  speaking.     Deep  shadows  passed  over  his  counten, 
and  low  muttering  sounds,  which    were,   not    Munis,  escaped   at 
moments  through  his  closed  teeth.      !!<•  seemed  to  be  struggling 


A  cm  99 

Wfth  s..me  new  emotion,  u  Inch  baffled  his  control  and 
equally       At    length    !  D    i'mm  of  bil 

1Il>  !i  :  ;  posing    liis   features,  which  were   now 

mantled  with  a  smile. 

•'•"  lie  exclaii.  ;    are  a  v.  ,us  fellow. 

^()U   a-'-'  f    boyhood.      Your   proiler  • 

to  liberalit;.  •  it  woul.l  be  injurious  rather 

than    beneficial   to   me.      Your    intention    is   everything.      Hut,  1 
C*n  nol  or  -ift  —  it  would  i  :lu> "shirt 

II  ""^'  'nth,  and  if  y<-u  take  my  CUIMIM-!  you  w9] 

Boti  :    hy    far   ha<l    y«,u    left  .it    in    tin- 

Have   you    for-otten   that   1   am    here,  under  these   very  1 

with  no  worse   offence  than  that  of  being  Colonel  t'lar- 
away.      If  1  could  bc  secure  from  this  imjmtati«.n.  }v-r- 
lia{>s    I  would  with    no  worse   evil   than   t:  they 

have 

"True,  tn:  ,ater>  had  driven  the  other  from 

my  thou-ht.      I    recollect—]    had   even  given  my  testimony  «>n 
',.      If  it  will    serve  you.  1  will  again    repeat    the  truJi, 
bew  me  d«-wn  iii.stant." 

ence.     You  i  relj  hold 

^.-iier.Mis  —  every  way  an   extravagant   man.'   Sup- 

if  you  can,  for   I'm  doubtful  if  it  ca; 

good    with    the.M-    people,  and    it    may    do   you   9& 

harm.      Tl,,.y    make    little    heed,    I    tr.tr,  of  law  and  "parch:. 

barkl     '!'!''•  Bhouting  becomei  oearerand  louder,    'i 

'hey  have  taken  the  assassin!" 

•he    involuntary  ejaculation   of  Clare: 
'll1  ^llu1'  frame  at  the  apprehension 

l'"rl'i'l  •  ;nV[  Conway,  he  i| 

if   not    irke!"    was   the    remark    of   his   com- 
1  1'rrhaps,   Clarence,    our    only    hop, 
BP  having  their  victim." 

>aid    the  rthcr;    "  i 
nd   a  loathing  could    1    feel  it  were  : 
:he  sacrifice  of  that  worthy 

"  U  r    >lll;l11    >s"  Heiv    they    (-me.       (Jur    trial    is    f1 

" 


100  THE   SCOUT. 

No  more  words  were  permitted  to  either  speaker.  The.  uproak 
af  conilicti'ig  voices  without,  the  (jucstioniug  and  counselling, 
die  cries  and  clamor*,  effectually  stunned  and  silenced  the 
\vkhin.  Then  came  a  nisli.  The  door  was  thrown  open,  and 
in  poured  the  troop,  in  a  state  of  fury,  vexation,  and  disap 
pointment. 

They  had  failed  to  track  the  assassin.  The  darkness  of  the 
night,  the  prevalence  of  the  storm,  and  the  absence  of  every 
trace  of  his  footsteps  —  which  the  rain  obliterated  as  soon  as  it 
was  set  down  —  served  to  baffle  their  efforts  and  defeat  their 
aim.  They  returned  in  a  more  savage  mood  of  fury  than  be 
fore.  They  were  now  madmen.  The  appetite  for  blood,  pro 
voked  by  the  pursuit,  had  been  increased  by  the  delay,  lien 
Williams,  the  man  who  was  slain,  was  a  favorite  among  the 
troop.  They  were  prepared  to  avenge  him,  and,  in  (hmig  this, 
to  carry  out  the  cruel  penalty  which  he  was  about  to  inflict  on 
the  prisoner  in  the  moment  when  he  was  shot  down.  Led  <ni 
by  one  of  the  party  by  whom-  Clarence  had  been  originally 
made  prisoner,  they  rushed  upon  him. 

"  Out  with  him  at  once !"  was  the  cry  of  the  infuriate 
wretches.  "To  the  tree  —  to  the  tree  !" 

"  A  rope,  Muggs  !"  was  the  demand  of  one  among  them  ;  and 
sharp  knives  flashed  about  the  eyes  of  the  young  partisan  ii; 
fearful  proximity. 

'  What  would  you  do,  boys?"  demanded  Muggs,  ir.tei  i 
He  alone  knew  the  tic  which  existed  between  the  prisoner 
his  commander.     lie  also  knew,  in  part  at  least,  the  objects  for 
which  the  latter  had  put  on  his  disguise. 

"  Let  the  prisoner  alone  to-night,  and  give  him  a  fair  trial  ir 
the  morning." 

"  Who  talks  of  fair  trial  in  the  morning1  Look  at  Ben  Wil 
liams  lying  at  your  foot.  You're  treading  in  his  blood,  and  you 
t.-Jking  of  fair  trial  to  his  murderer." 

"But  this  man  ain't  his  murderer!" 

"Same  thing  —  same  thing  —  wa'n't  it  on  his  account  that  he 
was  shot?  Away  with  him  to  the  tree.  Away  with  him  !" 

"Haul  hi  n  along,  fellows  !     Here,  let  me  lay  hand  on  his  col- 


A     CRISIS.  101 

[ar,"tri<M  a  I  from  behind.     "Give's  a  hold  on  him 

and  y.-u'll  him  out." 

A  (In/en  hands  grappled  with  the  youth.      A  do/on  more   c<>n- 
i  that  they  mijrht  do  so  likewise. 

mi'   lnit  riinin  and  I  will  follow  you,"  cried 

Clarence  with  a  »  would  have  shown  in  a  sta- 

-.f  the  u"  'irity,  and  with   tones   as    firm   as   lie    ever 

uttered  at  the  ln-ad  of  hi-;  regiment. 

"  If  nothing   but    my    lil«m.:  -m  fur  that  which  is 

•!   shall   n  tie  shrink  from  any  violence 

which  your  rnllian  hands  may  inflict.      Kno\v  that  I  despise  and 
tO  thr  !; 

:  him  —  -top  his  mouth.     Shall  the  rebel  flout  us  on  oui 

own  ground  .'" 

"  Hrini;  him  forward.     The  hlood   of  IVn  Williams  cries  out 
to   us;  —  why   (!••  ;li   ojien   mouths  there?      Shove 

him  ahead." 

.   coupled   with    the.   most   shocking 
.'ions,  they  draped  forward  the  youth  slowly, 
for   their  own   numhers  and   conllicti!)^  vii.h-- 

.iti'-n.      They  iiim   <>n   until,  at   h-nu-th,  he   stood  in 

the  hlood,  and  jr.st  ahove  tl:c>  hody.  of  the   murdered  man.      il  • 
did  not  |1  .nnk  hack  naturally,  with   some,   hor- 

wli(Mi  he  felt  the  clammy  suh.-tam-o  sticking  to  his  leet.     He 
readily  conjectured  whence  it  came  —  fn-m  wl 
of  human    life;  —  and,   though   a   fe,  ier  —  one   Avh 

eat  of  hattle,  had  often  shed  the  hlood  of  ]\\>  enemy — yet 
tl*e  naf,;:-"  within  him  recoiled  at  the  conviction  t!  1  in 

n  j»uddh\  which,  hut  a  little  time  hefore,  had  heat  and  hounded, 
all  animation,  and  strength,  and  passion,  in  the  f  a  living 

man. 

•Inulderin^   recoil   was  mi-takcii   hy  the   crowd  for  I 
ance,  ai.  1    OD€    niffiAl  .  lUOTQ    hrutal   than    tlie   rest.  rene\vin;_.' 

j>  with   one    hand   unun    the    collar    of  the   youth,   with   the 
other  struck  him  in  tlie  ' 

f  la-'  !•:  i    \'5«denc<>   to  which  tli* 

Submits,  roused  the  .swelling  tide-  in  the  lio.om  «.f  the  youth  be 
yond  their  wonted  With  AH  'hei 


102 

an  emotion   ot    n.e   soul   than   a   phygicAl   endeavor,  he  put  '     >> 

his  whole  strength,  and  th-  napped  asunder  which 

confined  his  anus,  and  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning  he  retort'V. 
the  iilow  with  such  sui-'cient  interest  as  prostrated  ihe  "Ksaih'.nt 
at  his  feet. 

"  N.IW.  scoundrels,  if  you  must  have  Mood,  use  your  kii" 
for  no  rope,  shall  profane  my  neck  while  I  have  soul  to  dc'y  and 
power  to  resist  yon.      Dogs,  Moodhonnds  that   yon   are,  I  -corn, 
1  spit  upon  yon.      1'ring  forth  your  best  man  —  your  chief,  i! 
have  one  to  take  the  place  of  this  carcass  at  my  feet,  that  1  may 
revile,  and  defy,  and  spit  upon  him  also." 

A  moment's  pause  ensued.  The  nohlc  air  of  the  man  whom 
they  environed  —  the.  prodigious  strength  u  Inch  he  had  shown 
in  snapping  asunder  the  strong  cords  which  had  secured  hi^ 
limbs,  commanded  their  admiration.  Courage  and  strength  will 
always  produce  this  efi'ect,  in  the  minds  of  savage  men.  They 
beheld  him  with  a  momentary  pause  of  wonder  ;  but  shame,  to 
!  i-  thus  battled  by  a  single  man,  lent  them  new  audacity.  They 
rushed  upon  him. 

Without  weapons  of  any  kind,  for  he  had  been  .iisarmed  when 
first  made  a  captive,  they  had  no  occasion  to  resort  to  that  d< 
of  violence   in   ovrcoming   him,  to  which  he  evidently  aimed  t<» 
provoke   them.      It  was  his  obvious  desire  to  goad  them  on  to 
the  use  of  weapons  which  would  take   life,  and  thus  effectually 
det'eat    their   purpose  of  consigning   him    to   the   gallows; — that 
degrading  form  of  deatli  from  \\hicli  the  gentle  mind  shrinks. with 
a  levulsioii  which  the  fear  of  the  sudden  stroke  or  the  swift  shot, 
could   never  occasion.      Hence  the  abusive  and  strong  '. 
which  he  employed — language  otherwise  unfamiliar  to  hi-,  lips. 

His  desire  might  still  have  been  gratified..  Several  of  the. 
more  violent  among  the  young  men  of  the  party  were  rushing 
on  him  with  uplifted  hands,  in  which  the  glittering  blade  u  as 
Hashing  and  conspicuous.  I'ut  the  scornful  demand  of  I'larencv 
with  which  he  concluded  \i\<  contumelious  speech,  brought  a  in-v 
party  into  the  field. 

This  \\MV  no  nthc.-  than  his  kinsman.      He  had  been  a  h:»kei 
on  for  some  moments—     •  '  long  —  for  the  \\lmle   scene  took  far 
le>*   time    for  performance   than  it  now  Hk"s  for  irip-at'on.      lie 


A  ri.  108 

had  watched  H  s  with  n>  ithor  strange   <  mov 

•    ' 

and 

around  h': 
:  — 

•    them   go  on  —  let  liim   perish —  why  should  I  j... 
fn  in  destruction  the  only  obstacle  t<»  my 

At  the  next  moment,  a  hotter  spirit  prevailed  within  him.     Ii« 

•es   of  Clarence   t<>  himself.        '. 

him  his  life;   and.  hut  now.  had  net  the  ^enemus  youth  I 
him   for  his   extrication   and    K>1<  it    document,  which    he 

>d  wiiuhi  he  all-powerful  in  securing  his  -y.     The 

gG   of  their  mutual   father  came,  also,  to  goad  the  unworthy 
and  when  he  heard  the  fierce,  pr-md 
;th  —  when   lie   heard  him  call  for  "their 
that    lie   mi^h-  ;,it    up«»n   him,"  he 

Tliere   was   but    a  left    him    for    perl  if   his 

purpose 

already  flourishing  ;d  in   the'.  i^ht 

-•en  that  fanatical  •  of  fury  which  i>  ahm^t  1  t-vond 

human    power   t«.  juick,  ir.<  .   he 

-  had  all  the  while  ' 

•rhful  of  i.  .     At  the  siirn  the  latter  mad* 

'nd    him,  and.  unohserved.  with 
knife,  sr;  which   hound   his  arm^.      In   another 

all  their  clan. 

"  H    ;    .     D  ;      .:    !••-!"  he  exclaimed,  leajiin^  in 
M8n;  will   make   U   .  n 

I.t-t  the  prbonei  ah;n. 

while  the  big  drop- 

of  perspiration   poured  «io\\n  h'-  "I  thought,  ctpplo 

you  coildn't  stand  hy,  ami  see  them  make  a  finish  cf  it" 


104  Tin 


CHAPTER    X. 

SHADOWS    OF    (OMI\<;    KVKNTS. 

"  HOLD,  comrades,  you  have  done  enough.  Leave,  the.  prig- 
oner  to  r.'.e  !  Colonel  Conway,  you  demanded  to  look  upon  the 
chief  of  th<  B^"  *k  Riders.  He  is  before  you.  He  answers,  at 
last,  vi  your  defiance." 

And  >vit'h  these  words,  with  a  form  rising  into  dignity  and 
height,  in  becoming  correspondence,  as  it  won1,  with  the  novel 
boldness  of  his  attitude,  Edward  Conway  stood  erect  and  con 
fronted  his  kinsman.  In  the  bosom  of  the  latter  a  thousand 
feelings  were  at  conflict.  Vexation  at  the  gross  imposition 
which  had  been  practised  upon  him  —  scorn  at  the  baseness  of 
the  various  forms  of  subterfuge  which  the  other  had  employed 
in  his  serpent-like  progress ;  but,  more  than  all,  the  keen  an 
guish  Avhich  followed  a  discovery  so  humiliating,  in  the  bosom 
of  one  so  sensible  to  the  purity  of  the  family  name  and  honor 

—  all  combined  to  confound  equally  his  feelings  and  his  judgment. 
But  his  reply  was  not  the  less  prompt  for  all  this. 

"  An/1  him,  thus  known,  I  doubly  scorn,  defy  .and  spit  upon!" 

lie  had  not  time  for  more.     Other  passions  were  in  exercise 

beside  his  own  ;  and  Edward  Conway  was   taught  to   ki'ow,  by 

what  ensued,  if  the'  truth  were   unknown  to  him  befoiv,  that  it 

is  always  a  t;.r  le>s  diilicult  task  to  provoke.,  than  to  quiet,  iVen/.y 

—  to  stimulate,  than  to  subdue,  the  ferocity  of  human  passions, 
when  at  the  flood.     A  fool  may  set  the  wisest  by  the   ears,  but 
it  is  not  the  wisest  always  who  can  restore  them   to  their  former 
condition  of  sanity  and  repose..     The  congratulations  of  Mr. 
the  landlord,  which,  by  the  way,  spoke  somcHiing  in  his  behalf, 
promised  for  a  while  to  be  without  sullicient  reason 

The  captain  of  the  Black  Riders  met  with  unexpected  . 
ance  among  his  troop.     The  murdered  man  had  hei'u  a  favorit? 
and  they  were  not  apt  to  hi;   scrupulous  about   avenging  the 


.-n.\  105 

Mich  among  their  .  Kven    at    a    time 

when  a  moderate  degree  of  reason  prevailed  among  them,  i' 

not  easy  to  snhdne  them  tn  placability  ami  forhearance  in  regard 

to  a  :   tin-  very  mime  of  whom,  according  to  their  usual 

Mvmous  witli  victim.     How  much   less   so,  at 

this  juncture,  when,  with   their  Mood  roused   to   tiger  rage,  they 

had  hern  suffered    to  proceed  to  the  very  verge  of  indulgence, 

it,  worthy  of  the  name,  on  the  part  of  an  aeknowl- 

'e  to  arrest  them  ! 

Kdsvard  .Morton  telt  his  error,  in  delaying  his  interposition  so 

If  his  purpose  had    hern    to  save,  his   effort   should   have 

and   then   it   might   have  leen  effected  with- 

M'ri.'U.x  ri.sk  which  now  threatened  himself,  in  the 

:i  of  his  authority.     He  estimated   his   power 

too  highly,  and  flattered  himself  that  he  could  at  any  moment  in- 

terpo.M-  with  effect.    lie  made  no  allowance  for  that  momentum  of 

Uood,  which,  in  the  man  arou>ed  hy  passion  and  goaded  to  fury, 

•  •n    the    desires   of  the   mind    accustomed  to  c-.ntrol  it  ; 

the  wild    hra.-t,  after   he   ha>    lathed    himself  into  i 

r  hy  whom  he  i.-  fed  and  disciplined,  and  rends 
him  with  the  n 

Edward  Morton  stood  erect  and  frowning  among  those  whom 
•'.med  to  command  —  and  their  obedience  wa>  with 
held  !      His  order.-  ;  with   murmur>  hv  M>me  —  with 
snlh-                     all.      Tliey  Mill    maintained    their   position  —  their 
hand>   ami  weap-ns    ujiliih-d  —  thrir  I'ing   with    w\ 

•  initiation  ;  —  now  ;'  their  threatened  victim,  and 

On  their  commander ;   and  without    much  difference   in   their   ex 
ion  when  surveying  either. 

M.urmur  —  are  ye  mutin*  ;>  .'      Ha!    will   ye    have  me 

II  not  hack  f      Is  if  -..n,  and    j 

Von,  of  all.  that    .stand  up    in    n  to    my  u  ill! 

.  it  \\ill  hest  i  .   prompt 

I   ha-.  M  your  connecti«.n  with  Lieu 

'    :.       1'    D    back,   ^-ir  —  do    not    provoke    me    to    an. 

.  '" 

man   add]  .t»n  —  a    huge    fr]'  made 

his   rlam«'i>    from    the    ll'.-t  —  n-plied    in 


106  THK    SCOTT. 

a   style    which    revealed    to    Morton    the    full    dL'heulties   of  liia 
position. 

"Look  you,  Captain  Morton,  I'm  one  that  is  always  for  obe 
dience  when  the  thing's  reasonable  ;  but  here's  a  case  when- 
it's  unreasonable  quite.  We  ain't  used  to  ge<  f  us  shot 

dnwn  without  so  much  as  drawing  blood  i'or  it.  Hen  Williams 
wa.s  my  friend  ;  and,  for  that  matter,  lie  was  a  friend  with  every 
fellow  of  the  troop.  I,  for  one,  can't  stand  looking-  at  his  blood, 
right  afore  me,  and  see  his  enemy  standing  t'other  side,  without 
so  niiit-li  as  a  scratch.  As  for  the.  obedience,  Captain,  why  th- 
time  enough  for  that  when  we've  done  hanging  the  rebel." 

"It  must  be  now,  Mr.  Barton.  Muggs,  that  pistol!  Stan  1 
by  me  with  your  weapon.  Men,  1  make  you  one  appeal!  1 
am  your  captain  !  All  who  aie  still  willing  that  1  should  be  BO, 
will  follow  3:  Ktlggfi  —  behind  me.  March!  Hy  tin. 

of  Heaven,  Mr.  liart.-n,  this  moment  tries  our  strength. 
You  or  I  must  yield.  There  is  but  a  straw  between  us.  There 
is  but  a  moment  of  time  for  either!  Lower  your  weapon,  sir, 
or  one  of  us,  in  another  instant,  lies  with  Ben  Williams." 

The  huge  horseman's  pistol  which  Muggs  handed  to  his 
leader  at  his  requisition,  had  been  already  cocked  by  the  laud- 
lord.  It  was  lifted  while  Morton  was  speaking — delibeiately 
lii'U-d  —  and  the,  broad  nm/zh;  WBS  made  to  rest  full  against  the. 
of  the  refnvctory  subordinate.  The  instant  was  full  of 
doubt  and  peril,  and  Clarence  Con  way  forgot  for  the  time 
own  danger  in  the  contemplation  of  the  isstie. 

But  the  courage  of  the  moral  man  prevailed  over  the  instinct 
Of  1,:  [ward  Morton  saw  that  he  was  about  to  triumph 

The  eye  "f  the  fierce   mutineer   sunk   beneath    his  own,  though 
its  angry  li.es  were    by  no   means  quenched.      It    still    gleamed 
\\ith    defiance   and    rage,  but   no   longer   with    resolution, 
fellow  locked  round  upon  his  comrades.      They  hail  shrunk  back 

they  weiv  no  longer  at    his  side  ;    ami    no   Miiall    number   had 

wed  the  landlord  and  were  now  ranged  ..n  the  side  of  their 
captain.  Of  those  who  had  not  taken  this  decided  movement. 
h<;  &a\s  tin:  UTesoluteneBS,  and  his  own  purpose  was  necessarily 

It  is  thi,;  dependence  upon  .sympathy  and  asf 
tion  which  constitutes  one  of  the  es&uitial  differences  between  th« 


107 

''.  mind.      Brutal  ;m<i  1  Bar 

it- ft  alone.  The  chief  of  the  Black  Ri 

•!i:it  tlu»  trial  -  ;.     The 

-  laid  t'<T  ::  t,  and  there  \vas  no  longer  , 

• 

"  Knout;!:  !"   lie    exclaimed,  lowering   his   weapon,  and    acting 
v\ii!,  policy  than   had   altogether  ;   his  previous 

1      Von  know  mo,  Barton,  and  I  think    I    kin 

VMM  •>,!    fellow  at   certain    B€  your 

T   hurricanes,  and    do    not    al  \\ays    know  when   to 

leave  off  t!ie  uproar.      Yon  will  g  •  i.   I   trust;    hut,   niean- 

:  must  i:  in  order. 

_h  treatment  of  your  fr:-  ..  ..n't 

:  -iir  warn:. 

.i-il    the.    rntiian,   doggedly,    still    unwilling    ah«». 

Hihmit  ;    "hut  when  our  fi;.  1   ii]>   for  our 

nrd  take  Mde^  au;ainyNt  us,  I  tliii,:  'iialile  8DOngh  to  think 

there'*  not  much  dilVereuce  het\\cen  '  Q  lay,      I'm  d«n«  , 

hut    I    think    it's  mighty  hard   n^w-a-days  that  \ve  can't  han--  a 

.•  itliout  i.ein^  in  danger  o|' .swallowing  a    hullet 

And    then,   too,  jionr    Ui-ii  Williami         1>    he    to    lie 

,id  notliin_ 

"  I   -  iy  not  that,  Mr.  Barton.      The  priflOnei  shall  ha\t>  a  trial; 

and  if  you  find  him  guilty  of  coiinci-tioii  \\ith    the   man  who  shot 

William^  y    a  may  then  do  .      1  have  no  di>j»o>ition 

to  (h-jiri\e  you  of  yoi.r  victim;    hut  know  from  me,  that,  while  I 

'!  ohcy  me  —  ay,  with.  the  why 

-.iM    In-  a  /r.-iin  —  nay,  you  would 

,    in^ul'ordination  tor  an  in- 

"nl    make    th«-  I — ail    of    you     hut 

it  be  kept  dry  ; 

in   r«-adii.  dawn.       i 

,:id  with    such    mai 
:  ad    in    n."  .  it  \\»\\]  . 

." 

disappenred,    «ii   '".it  tlie  tw  who  \\-c: 
:,  red  tin-  ji; 


108  THE   SCOUT. 

"  Shumway,  do  jou  and  Irhy  take  charge  of  tin-  lebel 
Lodge  him  in  the  block,  ami  let  him  be  safely  kept  till  1  relieve 
you.  Your  lives  shall  answer  for  his  safety.  Spare  none  who 
seek  to  thwart  you.  Were  he  the  best  man  in  the  troop,  who 
approached  you  suspiciously,  shoot  him  down  like  a  dug." 

In  silence  the  two  led  Clarence  Conway  out  of  the  hm:  -. 
Jle  followed  them  in  equal  silence.  lie  looked  once  toward  hi- 
kinsman,  but  Edward  .Morton  was  not  yet  prepared  to  meet  hi> 
glance,  llis  head  was  averted,  as  the  former  was  followed  !•;. 
his  guards  to  the  entrance.  Clarence  was  conducted  to  an  out 
house —  a  simple  but  close  block-house,  of  squared  logs  —  small, 
and  of  little  use  as  a  prison,  except  as  it  was  secluded  from  the 
highway.  Its  value,  as  a  place  of  safekeeping,  consisted  .sim 
ply  in  its  obscurity.  Into  this  he  was  thrust  headlong,  and  the 
door  fastened  from  without  upon  him.  There  let  us  leave  him 
for  a  while,  to  meditate  upon  the  strange  and  sorrowful  scene 
which  he  had  witnessed,  and  of  which  he  had  been  a  part. 

llis  reflections  were  not  of  a  nature  to  permit  him  to  pay 
much  attention  to  the  accommodations  which  were  aftbrdeu  him. 
He  found  himself  in  utter  darkness,  and  the  inability  to  employ 
his  eyes  led  necessarily  to  the  greater  exercise  of  his  thoughts. 
lie  threw  himself  upon  the  floor  of  his  dungeon,  which  was 
covered  with  pine-straw,  and  brooded  over  the  prospects  of  that 
life  v/hich  had  just  passed  through  an  ordeal  h'O  n;urow.  Let  UB 
now  return  to  his  kinsman. 

Edward  Morton  had  now  resumed  all  the  duties  of  his  >tatiou 
as  chief  of  the  Black  Riders.  In  this  capacity,  and  just  at  this 
this  time,  his  tasks,  as  the  reader  will  readily  imagine,  were 
neither  few  in  number  nor  easy  of  performance.  It  required  no 
small  amount  of  firmness,  forethought,  and  adroitness,  to  k 
in  subjection,  and  govern  to  advantage,  such  unruly  spirit  > 
But  the  skill  of  their  captain  was  not  inconsiderable,  ;md 

•  the  very  spirits  whom  he  could  most  successfully  eo'umand 
The  coarser  desires  of  the  mind,  and  the  wilder  p.*  flu- 

man,  he  could  better  comprehend  than  any  other.  With  ti 
he  was  at  home.  But  with  these,  his  capacity  was  at  an  • 
Boyond  these,  and  \\ith  liner  spirits,  he  was  usually  at  fault. 

To  be  the  successful    leader  of  rullians  is  perhaps   a  small 


NTS.  10* 

merit.       It    requires   cunning:,  rather   than    wisdom,  t<> 
simply  t  wlm-h   it  and  thia 

the    chi.  •  .       H,.    knew    how    t<» 

make  hate,  and  jealousy,  and    1  fear,  sub 

purposes,    already    rouse.l    into    action.       It    is    doubtful,   even, 
whether  he  possessed  the  cnld-hlnoded  talent  of  la.iro,  to  awaken 
them  from    their  slumbers,  lireatlie    into  them  the  hreath  of   life, 
and    send   them   forward,  commissioned   like   so  manv  : 
the   destruction  of  their  wretched  victim.      A   sample 

.    ()f   the   sort   of   trial   which   awaited    him   in  the 
control  of  his  comrades. 

•here  were  other  difficulties  which  tasked  his  pov 
the  utmo.st.     The  difficulties  which  environed   the  whole.  I'ritish 
.inny  were  such  a-  :ily  troubled,  in  a  far  -  ;ree, 

its   subordinate   commands.      The   duties  of  tin  N    wean    more 

rant,   more    arduous,   and    lialde   to    more   van  and 

exposure.     The  unwonted   Mice. •  'lie  American  arms  had 

Uened    all    the    slumbering   patriotism    of  the  people  :    while 
the-  f  which  such   parties  as  that  which    Morton   com 

manded    had    l.een    guilty,    in    the    hey-day    of    • 

BT|  li;id    r«'U-ed    j»assions   in   the   hosom  of  ',ich, 

if  letter  justified,  were  equally  violent,  and  far  less  lik 
awakened,  to  relapse  into  slumber.      Rev.  with  J! 

ber  train  in  seai\  n  of  Morton  himself,  and  the  gloomilv-capan- 
oned  troop  which  he  led.  It  was  her  array  from  which  1 
...irrowly  escaped  when  he  received  the  timely  succor  of  hi«j 
kinsman  in  the  swamp.  A  hundred  small  ru.dies  like  his  own 
had  suddenly  started  into  existence  and  aetivitv  around  him. 
BOme  of  wfaieHad  almost  specially  devoted  themselves  to  the 
destructiMU  of  Iiis  tnu.p.  The  i  ]u-t.  ami  mu: 

spoliation,  we  i  ;   ;il,d  ),;, 

ho    required   to    keep    hi-   troop   in  '  for  no  other 

object   than    h:  hy   this  •  .  he    w&B 

comjtelled  to  traver-r  a  country  which  h.-, 

the  wanton  hands  of  those  whom  he  c.^nmanded.      On  the  Fame 
track,  and  b.-  m  scattered  hun 

dre<ls  of  ene::  --tive  in   pur-uit  an  s   in 

He  well  kn-wth- 


11°  THE    Sr 


.ind  involuntarily  -hu-'dered  as  he  thought  of  it  :  death  in  itg 
most  painful  form  ;  torture  fashioned  by  the  m«>>t  capricious  ex  pr 
of  ingenuity;  scorn,  ignominy,  and  contumely,  the  most  bit 
ter  and  degrading,  which  stops  not  even  at  the  Callows,  and,  as 
far  as  it  may,  stamps  the  sign  of  infamy  upon  the  grave. 

These  were,  in  part,  the  subject  of  the  gloomy  meditations  of 
rl'.e  outlawed  chief  when  left  alone  in  the  wigwam  (»{'  Muggs.  the 
landlord.  True,  he  was  not  without  his  resources  —  his  disguises 
—  his  genius!  lie  had  been  so  far  wonderfully  favored  by  f<>r- 
,  and  bis  hope  was  an  active,  inherent  principle  in  disorgani 
zation.  Bui  the  resources  of  genius  avail  not  al\vay>.  and  c\<  n 
the  sanguine  temperament  of  Kdward  Morten  was  disposed  to 
reserve,  while  listening  to  the  promises  of  f:>rini;e.  lie  knew 
the  characterislir  cajirices  in  which  she  was  accustomed  to  in 
dulge.  lie  was  no  blind  believer  in  her  books.  lie  was  too 
seliish  a  man  to  trust  her  implieitlv  ;  though,  hitherto,  !-he  had 
fulfilled  every  promise  that  she  had  ever  made. 

T],e  signs  of  a  change  were  now  becoming  visible  to  hih 
senses,  lie  had  his  doubts  and  misgivings;  lie  was  not  without 
audac'ty  —  he  could  dare  with  the  boldest;  but  his  daring  hao 
usually  bc\"n  shown  at  periods,  when  to  dare.  \  cautious. 

He  nu.lil.ited,  e\  en  now,  to  distrust  the  smiles  of  fortune  in  sea 
son  —  to  leave,   the.   field   of  adventure,  while  it  wa  ible 

and  safe  to  d->  so. 

His  meditating  were  interrupted  at  this  moment,  and,  per 
hap-,  assisted,  by  no  less  a  person  than  Muggs,  the  landlord 
He  made  his  appearance,  after  a  brief  visit  to  an  inner  shanty 
—  a  place  of  peculiar  privity  —  the  sanctum  sanctorum  —  in 
which  the  landlord  wisely  put  away  from  slght™ich  Mores  as 
he  wished  to  prcsc.rve,  from  that  maelstrom,  the  common  maw. 
The  landlord  was  one  of  the  lew  who  knew  the  secret  hi 
of  the  two  C'onways  ;  ind,  though  lie  knew  not  all,  he  knew 
••rntugh  to  form  a  tolerably  jus  idea  of  the  feelings  with  which 
the  elder  regarde.l  the  \  unger  kii.  man.  He  could  form  a  no- 
lion,  also,  of  the  sentiments  by  which  they  were  requited.  In 
Mugg*.  Kdward  M->rion  had  rea  iieve  that  he  had  a  sure 

IVicinl  —  one   hefore  whom  lie  might    safely  venture   to   unbosom 
«wititi  of  his  rcse.r\t-s.      Still.be  .  ciaHy  careful   to   siio\v 


SUV  111 

not  all,  iu»r  t! 
which  ci-nld  ] 

inco:  .      He,  perh.Mp-.  tiiil    little   limn-  firm  >!:mulatf.  the 

::iunicati\  6 

i»i'  his   craft.  1  ilnus   hy  ;  :  .  and  fancied  that 

lie  never  ininistereil  perfectly  t«»  the  pal;  '  Jtfl,  unless 

mpnnied  the  service  hy  a  f;  own 

:ue. 
••  Well,  cappin,  the  f  f'(lX   and 

•  n.      There's    u«>   chance   t<>   play  posnim  with  your  l-n» thei 
It's  linn  ami  ti^er  now,  if  anythiujr." 

<!ie.l    the   other,  with    soinethin'r   "f  | 
'  indlor.l  continued  :  — 

:,    now,   I    reckon  —  now,  that  you've  ^rot  him  ii 
\vhat   you're  to  do  with  him.     To  my  think 
-tion  that  hothered  the  man  when  he 
!•:  hand.s  with  the  hlack  hear  round  the  tree.      I' 
to  lii'l-i  on  and  a  Mjnee/e  to  let  pi,  and  danger  to  the  mortal 
whirl, evr  way  he  took  it." 

••  Y         ;  [bed    the   diHiculty,  Mui:'^,"  said  the 

—  '•  what  to  do  with  him  is  the  ijnestion." 

•       '         .';!r." 
"No.      That's  hnpu.-iMe  !" 

to  get  him  out  of  the 

nd  ir's  cd'ar  they  know  where  to  find  him.      That 
",'ianis  was  mighty  ni^h   and  mi- 

I'm  nnsati>tied  hut  theiv 
•• 

ton  —  -hut  OK 

••  Well,  rappin,  h«»v  i  .'n't  no  t 

him.      The  \va<h  m/.!e  the  airth 
-month  a^;«iii  :  ;  i'int." 

••  I;' 

i.d  who  i  IfMi  c'lppiii  .'" 

k  !" 

"  \Vell,   I    re.  ! 
i:^h.      I    didn't    OT1C€    think    "t    h'ni.       ! 

iy  that   k  '  tin-  la< 


112  THE  SCOUT. 

to  take  any  risk  for  a  person  lie  loves  so  well.  But,  you  don't 
think  he  come  alone  ?  I'm  dub'ous  the  whole  troop  ain't  mighty 
fur  off." 

"  But  him,  Muggs  !  He  probably  came  alone.  We  left  him, 
'iily  an  hour  before  I  came,  on  the  edge  of  the  Wateree —  a  few 
miles  above  this.  He  and  Clarence  gave  me  shelter  in  the 
swamp  when  I  was  chased  by  Butler's  men,  and  when  that 
skulking  scoundrel,  Stockton,  left  me  to  perish.  Clarence,  rodo 
on  with  me,  and  left  Supple  Jack  to  return  to  the  swamp,  where 
they  have  a  iirst  rate  hiding-place.  I  suspect  he  did  not  return, 
but  followed  us.  But  of  this  we  may  speak  hereafter.  The 
<{iic>ti<>ii  is,  what  to  do  with  the  prisoner — this  bear  whom  I 
have  by  the  paws,  and  whom  it  is  equally  dangerous  to  keep 
and  to  let  go." 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  call  a  tight  truth ;  but  it's  a  sort  of  sat 
isfaction,  cappin,  that  you've  still  got  the  tree  a-tween  you  ;  and 
so  you  may  stop  a  while  to  consider.  Now  I  ain't  altogether 
the.  person  to  say  what's  what,  and  how  it's  to  be  "done;  but  if 
sc  be  I  can  say  anything  to  make  your  mind  easy,  cappiu,  you 
know  I'm  ready." 

'  Do  so,  Muggs :  let  me  hear  you,"  was  the  reply  of  the  out 
law,  with  the  musing  manner  of  one  who  listens  witli  his  oars 
only,  and  is  content  to  hear  everything,  if  not  challenged  to  iind 
nn  answer. 

"  Well,  cappin,  I'm  thinking  jest  now  we're  besot  all  round 
with  troubles;  and  there's  no  telling  which  is  biggest,  cl" 
and  ugliest — they're  all  big,  and  close,  and  ugly.    As  for  hiding 
Clarence  Conway  here,  now,  or  for  a  day  more,  that's  «>nj. 
ble.     It's  cl'ar  he's  got  his  friends  on  the  track,  one,  mout  1 
hundred;   and  they  can  soon  muster  enough  to  work  him  <>; 
the  timbers,  if  it's  only  by  gnawing  through  with   their  teeth. 
Well,  how  are  you  to  do  then?     Send  him  under  jruard  to  C1am- 
den  ?     Why,  it's  a  chance  if  all  your  troop  can  cany  themselves 
there,  without  losing  their  best  buttons  by  the  way.     It's  ,-i  lon^ 
road,  and  the  rebels  watch  it  as  rl«>e  U  hawks  do  tin1  fani,;- 
in  chicken  season.     That,  no\\ .  Q  lor  the 

king's  side  that  I've  M-ed  fur  ;.  \»\\>j  .-pell  •  •!'  -mnniers.  It  shows 
pretty  cl'ar  that  we  a',  was  a  thinking.  The 


sn.\  I'l- 

:.:  ;    and   1  ! 

,  when  they  get  their  boldne  on   u  ti; 

Tarleton  '  :n  to  ride  among  us.  it  f  iike  a  dr; 

-f  deer  than  a  lighting  ofim-n  ;    but  it  s»vms  in  me  that  the 
pis  1  !:ivers    and  0*  late  day 

:ily.      I  things  hotter  tli.MN  you,  eappin,  an«l,  per 

.  hrtter  tlian  the  rel'rN  the:  fot  I  ain't  in  tin'  tl 

1'iis  je-t    Ilk.1    On«    that'fl    a-standing  «.n    a   hiirh  liill  an. 

t'gliting  when  it's  M   i>id"\v.      I   tidl  ; 

ID,   tl;.1    game's    p-ini:    airin    tlic    kind's    ]M'.,j.lc. 
-'.:i£    j:ri)iuiii — tlicse    nii'ii's    --t'ttinir   fcv.rr   and    lV\vi-r   c\  riy 
day,  and  JQ8\   so   l',~:  I    liear  of  I  'hering  amonr 

nv-liigs       I  tell  you  agin,  cappin,  you're  bi-sot  with  • 

"  I  know  it,  Mujrgs.     Y«»nr  account  of  the  G 
3nc.      We  are  in  a  had  M 

"  l'\  jingo,  yon  may  say  so,  cajipin.     Yon  are.  I 

mighty  had  way  —  a  sort  of  confine  'hat  it  puzxh's 

my  old  head  more  than  1  can  tell  rightly,  to  onhclli;-;.  i .     'rh»-:i. 
•:•  tin-  prisoner — " 

Muggs.      Speak  to  that.      AVhat  <.f  him  .'  - 
near  yom  advice  ;il»uut  tin-  jirisoner.     How  is  he  to  be  disp 

of  r 

••  Well  iinv,-,  rappiu  —  there's  a-many  ways  f..r  doing  that. 
which   is  the  right  and   prop-  v  One  —  and  when   it's  «i«-ne,  Aviil   it 
.eard  not  —  I'm   not    ki;  any 

X  it  SO  as  to  pl«-a<e   you.      It's    j 

ynur  enemy  in  war  and  your  enemy  in  j  <  !  it'  all  thi 

true,  ahout  him  and  M 

i  any  WOtte  olV — if  so  he  your  1' 
•  •i  tliis  hi  .ion." 

"ef  looked    up    lor    the    first   time  du; 

tarfki  • .  •  ••  e.  t'lll  of  signifiou  f  the 

•rd. 

"  Ay,  Mi..  fatal  one   to    : 

—  far  hetter  — had    he  BO    the    li  .that 

aome  -,  while  he — while 

ve  were  1-  tli  —  in  a  state  ,.f  bu 

"  Ghui,  e.  .inking  at  one  tirno  tc-night  tii/it  hlncV 


114  THE  BCOCT. 


Barton  would  II.SN  e  done  you  a  service  like  that;  and  I  was 
a-thinkhig  jest  then,  that  yon  wa'n't  unwilling.  You  kept  so 
long  quiet,  that  I  was  afeard  yorfd  \\t\\  •  •  ten  the  Mood. 

kin,  and  let  (lie  l.nys  had  the  game  their  own  way." 

"Yon   Mere    afraid   of  it,  v,  i  "   said    Morton,  his   brow 

darkening  as  he  spoke. 

"Ay,  that  I  was,  migbtly.     When    I    thought   of  the  temp;.'. 
lions,  yon  kno\v  ;  —  Miss  Flor.i  and  her  property  —  ami  thei 
line  estates  lie  got  hy  his  mother's  side  and   all   that  was   like  !•• 
fall  to  yon.  if  once  he  was  nut   of  the  way  —  I  begun  to  trindde 
—  for  1  thought  yon  conldn't  stand  the  temptation,      'lie's  only 
to   keep   «tuiet    now  and   say  nothing,  and  see  what  he'll  get  for 
only  looking  on.'     That  was  the  thought   that   tronliled   n;e.      I 
\vas  at'eard,  as  I  tell  you,  that  you'd  forget  blood-kin,  and  every 
thing,  when  you  come  to  consider  the  temptations." 

The  outlaw  rose  and  strode  the  floor  impatiently. 
•  "No.  no,  M  .iff  53;  yon  had  little  cause  to  fear,  lie  had  jusi 
i  my  life  —  slithered  me  from  my  enemies  —  nay,  would 
have  yielded  me  his  own  commission  as  a  protection,  Avhich  he 
supposed  would  he  effectual  for  his  own  or  my  safety.  No,  no' 
I  could  not  suffer  it.  Yet,  as  you  say,  great,  indeed,  would  have 
been  the  gain  —  great  was  the  temptation." 

"True,  •  appin,  hut  what's  the  gain  that  .t  man  gits  hy  bloody 
ing  his  hands  agin  natnr  /  Now,  it's  not  ovi  easoe.able  or  Oil- 
natural,  when  you  have  tumbled  an  oneil  enemy  in  a  fair 
scratch,  t«i  see  after  hi  -  I,  and  empty  his  fob  and  pockets. 

I    don't   think   anv  good    c<mld    com.-  with    the   gain   that's 
spotted  with  the  blood  of  one's  own  brother  —  " 

"  He's  but  a  half-brother,  Mugg>."  ^aid  Morton,  hastily.  "Dif 
ferent  mothers,  you  recollect." 

"  Well,  1  don't  see  that  then-1*  a  mu'-h  di'Tcronce.  c;,ppm. 
lie's  ^  full  bvothei  by  your  father's  side.1' 

•  Yes,  yes  i  —  but  Mugg*  had  he  b.-.-n  *l<iin  by  Barton  and 
the  rest,  th^,  :le«  d  \onM  have  been  none  of  mine.  It  was  a 
chance  of  wm,  ami  : 

"Well,  cappin,  I'm  m  •;  There's  a  dif- 

I  know,  but--- 
matters  not  :  .    -.ivtv-  f      He  is  spared.  Mn-j^s  —  spared 


SHADOW 

perhaps,  for  tlio  destnu  1  hit 

life  ;  liut  lio  knows  my  secret.      That  secret  I  —  That  fatal  secret  ! 

<_»  " 
lie  hmke  oft"  the  exclamation   abruptly,  while  he  struck  hid 

.  with  liis  open  palm. 
"  My  brain  is  sadly  addled,  Muggs.     Give  me  BOmethiog  — 

:ch  will  settle  it  aii.l  COB  \ 

Id    fellow  —  yi-ii    are   happy,    and  —  safe'      T!.< 
have  foririven  you  —  have  t! 

••  Well,    we    have    fm-jriven    each    other,    cnppin,    and    I 
found  them  hetter  fellows  niirh,  than    tliey  war    at   a   d; 
-•d   the  landlord,  while  he  c 
jht   of  punch,  the    lav  of  the  time  and  conn- 

"It    1  ain't  happy,  cappin,  '  Jilt  hut  my  own.      1 

b  you  we  i,  with    all   your   «rettinjrs.  as    i    think 

elf  with  mine  ;    an-'  ip]iin;  —  you  inou^ht." 

A  look  of  much  iduded  the  M-nte: 

"  II.-w  —  what  w.ml'l    >  dt-manded    the   out 

law,  with  ry  in  his  manner. 

The  reply  <•;'  tin-  landlord  was  whispered  in  i 
"  WonM   to   lieaven    I    couM  !  —  hut  how?  —  How.  Muggs,  is 
this  to  he  done?" 

The  au-wer  n  whisjiered. 

•  lieil  the  other,  with  a  heavy  shako  of  the  head. 

••  1  v,  onld  DI  t,      ••'' .  !    '  re  n  »t.     They  h.-  ':out 

foar   or   faith!-  II    not    \\-  But 

<  i«-r   me  your  lantern,  while  I 

k  this  brother  of  mine  ii:  rl'here  must  bo  gome  r 

last  words  Lclwe-en  us." 


110  TJII:  SCOUT. 


,1BH 

OF 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 

ell  A  I'TKU     X  1. 
Tin:  TIM  K   IE 

PRECEDED  by  the  landlord  Muggs.  win-  carried  a  dark  lantern, 
Morton  took -his  way  to  tip-  ^-eluded  block-house  in  which  his  kins 
man  was  a  prisoner.  Yh"  only  entrance  to  this  rude  fabric  was 
closely  watched  by  thet\\o  persons  to  whom  Clarence  was  given  in 
charge.  Yhcse  found  shelter  beneath  a  couple  of  gigantic  oaks 
which  stood  a  little  di  .rt  from  one  another,  yet  sufl;< 

nigh  to  the  block-bouse  to  enable  the  persons  in  their  shadow, 
while  themselves  perfectly  concealed,  to  note  the  approach  of  any 
intruder.  Dismissing  them  to  the  tavern,  the  chief  'of  the  Black 
Riders  assigned  to  Muggs  the  duty  of  the  watch,  and  having 
given  him  all  necessary  instructions,  he  entered  the  prison,  the 
door  of  which  was  carefully  fastened  behind  him  by  the  obedient 
landlord. 

The  lantern  which  he  bore,  and  which  he  set  down  in  one 
corner  of  the  apartment,  enabled  Clarence  to  distinguish  his  brother 
at  a  glance;  but  tin-  youth  neither  stirred  nor  <pok«-  as  he  beheld 
him.  His  mind,  in  the  brief  interval  which  had  elapsed  after 
their  violent  separation  in  the  tavern,  had  been  bu>ih  engfl 
arriving  at  that  siage  of  stern  resignation,  which  left  him  com« 
paralively  indifferent  to  any  evils  which  might  then  occur.  l"n 
•  form  any  judgment  upon  tin-  course  of  his  brother's 
future  conduct,  he  was  not  prepared  to  say  how  far  he  might  be 

willin  •  o    -in  permitting  to  his  sanguinary  troop 

the  in  ;  •:    their  bloody  will.      Wisely,   then,   he  had  steeled 

his  mi  •!.   if    h«-   had  to  suffer  death  in 

ired  by  the  youthful  and  ambitious  heart. 

bitter    edge    with    as   calm  a  countenance  a     he  should 

display,   under  a  similar  trial,  in  the  presence  of  a  thousand 

spectal 

rard     Morton    had  evidentlv  made    ureat    efforts  to  work  lite 


i  II  i:    1  i;i  117 

H'iii-i  i;:.liir«-ivncc;    l.uf    he  had 

""I  :  :"ul.  although,  at    tin-    moment.  unlrouhled  l.y  any 

of    lh..si-    apprehend. n-    which     w<-iv    suiliciently    natural     to     the 
'ion  (if  his  l.n.th.-r.       Hi-    Eft  B    night     ';  D   to   vary 

in    '  a-    his    ,  ye    turned     upon  the    spot   v. 

-ittiMir.     The   moral   strength    wa^   v.antinir  in  hi- 
which     BU  :he     latter.       The    cunscioiiMH -s     of     i:uilt     en- 

'•'•d.      '"  pirit     whose      intense     selli>i 

alone  —  were     he     uni>.»sxexS,.,l      ()f      :U1y      ,,thtT      more 
characteristics  —must   have    l>een    the    source  of    IK.  small    amount 
Of  fll  if  a-haine.!,  liowev.  r,  (.f  his  feehli  • 

and    .lel-Tinined    to    l.rave    the    virtue    wliieh    h-    *\\\\    frit    himself 
comp.  lied   to  respect,    lie  opened    the    conference  by  a  remark,   the 
\\hieli    \\cre    intended    r  .-iltin.ir  and  tri- 

umpl, 

Coloiu-I  Oonway,  you  find    your   wi-dom    has  l..en   at  fault. 

You  liul,.  fancied  that  you  \VI-P-  half  >o  intimate  \\ith  that  tier.,-  han- 

dit       tii-ii  iv:;..wned  chieftain       of  whom  report  ->peak-  so  loudly.    It 

•hat  I  should  introduce  you    formally  to  the  captain  of 

the  iJlack   i . 

Th"  \..u:h  l....Ur.l  up    and    tixed   h.  .-dily    on  that  of    the 

speiii,  :.  but  full    of  a  manly    sorrow. 

ion  of  ll,;,r 

he    n-pi:  r     a     hriei  y..il 

'!•)  n  me  hy  that  tone — ;  fa   not    deceive  yiuir- 

Vour  In-art.    Instead     of    exultati..  I     this     moment   nothinir 

I. ut  shame,      fonrq  :ily    on  mine.     Y.,ur  >pirit   i^ 

man.      V.-.u    >hrii:k.    Kdward    CODWaj,  in  >piti- 

with    all     the    cowardice    of  a  guilty 

..irdiec  ?" 

"Ay.  \\hat  cKc  than  'nade  you  d.-cend  to   the  Milt- 

.        to  the 
r   )>ro!her.    even    at    tin-    m.-ment    when    In 

cut-   tlmt    which    you    have  <li>h«.nored  for 

U)    you,    in    iluc    leaSOIl,    that     1    am    M.I  ...\\ard. 
: it-il    the   i.tht-r.    in    boaiSC    ai,  .  nn- 


TIIK   SCOUT. 

distinguishable  accents;    "you,  at  least,  arc  Decking  to 

me  that  you  are  none,  i.i  thus  hoarding  tlic  lion  i-i  his  den." 

"The  lion!     Shame  not  that  noble  boast  by  any  such  com 
parison.     The  fox  will  better  suit  your  purpose  and  po^i' 
•nee." 

With  a  strong  effort  the  outlaw  kept  down  his  temper,  while 
he  replied  — 

"  I  will  not  suffer  you  to  provoke  me,  Clarence  Conway.  J 
have,  sought  ym  for  a  single  object,  and  that  I  will  perform. 
After  that  —  that  over  —  and  the  provocation  shall  be  met  and 
v.-.-lcitined.  Now! " 

The  other  fiercely  Interrupted  him,  as  he  exclaimed  — 

••  Now  be  it,  if  you  vil! !  Free  my  hands  —  cut  asunder  these 
rading  bondfl  which  you  have  fixed  upon  the  arms  whose  last 
68  were  employed  in  freeing  yours,  and  in  your  defence  — 
and  here,  in  this  dungeon,  breast  to  breast,  let  us  carry  out  that 
strife,  to  its  fit  completion,  which  your  evil  passion,  your  cupidity 
or  hate,  have  so  dishonestly  begun.  I  know  not,  Edward  Con- 
way,  what  perversity  of  heart  has  brought  you  to  this  wretched 
condition  —  to  the  desertion  of  your  friends — your  country  — 
the.  jnst  standards  of  humanity  —  the  noble  exactions  of  truth. 
You  have  allied  yourself  to  the  worst  of  ruffians,  in  the  worst  of 
practices,  without  even  the  apology  of  that  worst  of  causes  which 
the  ordinary  tory  pleads  in  his  defence.  You  can  not  say  that 
your  loyalty  to  the  king  prompts  you  to  the  side  you  have 
taken,  i'or  I  myself  have  heard  you  declare  against  him  a  thou 
sand  times;  unless,  indeed,  I  am  to  understand  that  even  ere 
we  left  the  hearth  and  burial-place  of  our  lather,  you  had  begun 
that  career  of  falsehood  in  which  you  have  shown  yourself  s* 
proficient.  But  I  seek  not  for  the  causes  of  your  present  state 
for  the  wrongs  and  the  dishonor  done  me.  If  you  be  not  ut 
terly  destitute  of  manhood,  cut  these  bonds,  and  let  the  issue  for 
lift*  ai>«]  nV;.th  between  us  determine  which  is  right." 

"There!  You  have  your  wish,  Clarence  Con  way."  And,  an 
he  spoke,  he  separated  the,  cords  will,  his  hunting-knife,  and  the 
partisan  extended  his  limbs  in  all  the  delightful  consciousness 
if  recovered  freedom. 

"You  are  so  far  free, Clarence  Conway! — your  limbs  are  un 


11!' 

bound,  luil  you  arc  unarmed.      I  n  ith  \\hirh 

iliN  day  pro\ided  inc.      ll  would  i,  ,    the 

life  of  him  whom  you  ft  bitterly  denounce.     Ilia 

without  dcl'ei:< 

•'  What    mean  that    I    would   rush  on  you   un- 

1  —  that  1  sock  unfair  ad vanta- 

\.  1    would   not   ti-lit 
:  DW." 

:iy  fur  im  demanded  the  partisan. 

•    ••••il  in  taking  niy  life, 
it  would  a  vail  you  nothing,  and  your  own   would  be  forfeit.     You 

pe  from  thl  iinl    fifty    v.  -.'.oulil  In-  n 

my   death." 

•;ds  mockery — this  cutting   IOOM>   my   bonds— tliis 
providinir  me  with  weapon-  ':"  demanded  (.'lar- 

:i  know    not   yet    my  doire.      Hear  inc.      Mv 

pui|  oquil    my-clf    \\lr-il\     of    thedrbt    I  (,\\.  -hat. 

wlicn    v.e    do     meet,     there    shall     In-    iiothin.ir    to    cnfeelde    either 

of  our  arms,  or   diminish    their    pr  Lltion.      (  »IK c  i.-niulit  I 

i)  at  the  peril    of    my  own   life,  from  the  furv  of 

my  followers.     I  have  alrcad  .  your  bonds.      1  ha\. 

von  re  the  da\\n  of  another  day,   the  licet  limbs 

>our     own  rhariT'T    shall  edom.      Tin's    dene. 

Coiiway.      I      shall    feel     iny>.-]f    acquitted     of    all     tl 
burd<-nsome     obligations     which,     hitherto,     have    m  sup- 

.tural      feeling      ,,f      my      1: 

my   mind  — the  pi:  ,;nbition.   love— all  of  which 

id  upon  your  life.     So  lonir  as  you  li 

th    i-    drawn    with    doubt,    ditliculty  and    in 
life  has     b.rn    in    my  hands,  but    I  could    : 

while  I  was  indebted    to  you    for  my  «\\  n.      i  \u   I 

shall  !>e  acquit-  ;  M  you   life  for  life, 

:md  liberty  for  lib,  i  :    that,    when    M 

shall  be  M'.,ni    fur    BCOFD    :m-!  i 

iieard    him    with    patience,    but     with     ; 
about    to    reply    in  a    similar   spirit,  bir 
•   arose  in  his  bosom  with  t.  'an    pau-e    \\hieh 


1\Ml  THE   SCOUT. 

lir  allowed  himself  for  thought,  lie  k<  pt  dowii  the  gushing 
blood  which  was  about  to  pour  itself  forth  in  defiance  from  his 
laboring  breast,  and  spoke  as  follows  — 

"  I  will  not  say,  Edward  Con  way,  what  I  might  safely  declare 
of  my  own  indifference  to  your  threats.  Nay,  were  I  to  obey 
the  impulses  which  are  now  striving  within  me  for  utterance.  I 
should  rather  declare  how  happy  it  would  make  me  were  the 
hour  of  that  struggle  arrived.  But  there  are  reasons  that  speak 
loudly  against  the  wish.  For  your  sake,  for  our  father's  sake, 
Edward  Conway,  I  would  pray  that  we.  might  never  meet  again," 

"  Pshaw  !  these  arc  whining  follies  !  —  the  cant  of  the  girl  or 
the  puritan.  They  do  not  impose  on  me.  Your  father's  sake 
and  mine,  indeed  !  Say  nothing  for  yourself — for  your  own 
sake  —  oh,  no!  no!  you  have  no  considerations  of  self — none! 
Philanthropic,  patriotic  gentleman!" 

The  keen  eye  of  Clarence  flashed  angrily  as  he  listened  to  this 
meer.  He  bit  his  lip  to  restrain  his  emotion,  and  once  more 
replied,  but  it  was  no  longer  in  the  language  of  forbearance. 

"  I  am  not  unwilling  to  say,  for  my  sake  also,  Edwaid  Conway. 
Even  to  you  I  need  not  add,  that  no  mean  sentiment  of  fear 
governs  me  in  the  expression.  Fear  I  have  of  no  man.  Fear 
of  you,  Edward  Conway  —  you,  in  your  present,  degraded  atti 
tude  and  base  condition  —  the  leagued  with  ruffians  and  common 
st-ibbers — a  traitor  and  a  liar!  —  Fear  of  you  I  could  not  have! 
Nor  do  you  need  that  I  should  tell  yon  this.  You  feel  it  in  your 
secret  soul.  You  know  that  I  never  feared  you  in  boyhood,  and 
can  not  fear  yon  now.  My  frequent  experience  of  your  powers 
and  my  own,  makes  me  as  careless  of  your  threats,  as  that  natu 
ral  courage,  which  belongs  to  my  blood  and  mind,  makes  mu 
insensible  to  the  threats  of  others.  Go  to  —  you  can  not  bully 
me.  I  scorn  —  I  utterly  despise  you." 

"  Enough,  enough,  Colonel  Conway.  We  understand  each 
other,"  cried  the  ortlav.  alrros*  convulsed  with  his  emotions 
"  We  are  quits  from  this  hour.  Henceforward  I  iling  the.  ti« 
blood  to  the  winds.  As  1  do  not  feel  them,  I  will  not  al.-vt 
them.  I  acknowledge  them  no  more.  I  am  not  your  father's 
gon — not  yo,-j  brother.  I  forswear,  and  from  this  moment  I 
shall  for  ever  deny  the  connection.  1  have  no  share  in  the  bsse 


I  I  M       I  i  ;  I    I       !  -     !    I  .  1  -J  1 


puddle     which      fills    your    vein-.      Know     me,    heneefonh,     I 
nobler     spirit.     I    dory    in    the     name     which     scares   your     puny 
squadrons.      I    ;im    the    chief  of  the    Black    Hiders    of    Con-;,], 
that     fell  banditti     which     makes   your,  women    shiver     ami    your 
war:  upon    whom    you     invoke    and    threaten    vrn-i  ance 

equally    in    vain.     I    care    not    to   l.e   distinguished    by    any    other 
name  or   connection.      You,  I    shall  only  know   as  one    to  whom   I 

and  whom    I    am  sworn   to  destroy.      \ 

know    not,  forso-Mh.   v,  hat  has   driven  me  to  this   position!     I  will 

tell   you    here,     .-nc^    fur    all  :    and    the    answer   I    trust,   will    con 

clude  your   doubts     for   ever.      Hate     for   >/>»<  —  for    y<>u  only!     I 

i    you    froin    your    era.ile.     with    an    inMinct     which    boyhood 

rly    Mren-lhcncd.    and     manhood    rendered    invincible.     I    shall 

always    hate   you;  and    if    I    have    (empori/ed    heretofore,   and  for- 

declaration   of    thetruth.it   was   only   the    more    ell".  <  tu- 

ally  '  -.'id    promote    purposes   which  were  nei  •  ;hat 

That     time,    and    the    I  .re    at    an 

.  the  full  fe«  lin-r    of  my  soul. 

•    revealed    to     you     what,     perhaps.    I    should     have 

v  Mied    for     a    Whl  to    withhold:     but    that     known,    it   is 

;>ride   to   have   no  further  concealments.      I    repeat,    there- 

tliat    1    '  ,     from    my   soul,     Clarence    Conway;    and 

when  I  have  fairly  acquittal  myself  of  the  debt    1  owe  you,  bv  send- 

inir  you  to  your  >wamp  in  Safety,  I  shall  then  .  seek,   by  .  \  «  TV  etfort, 

i('   and    .!•  \  Q    h»-ar    m<-  ?  —  am   I    at    last 

i  ?  " 

"I   1'  replied  Clarence  Conway,    with  a  tone  calm. 

OOmj  M;    and    with    looks   unmoved,  and   even  sternly    con 

tcmptuous.      ••  1    hear    you.      Your    violeix  ,  i     alarm    me, 

I-'d  ward    Conway.      1    look    upon    you  as  a    madman.      As  for   your 
pshaw,    man'     You  aim..  -t    move.!  me  to    deal   in    da; 

jrour  own.     Let  u<  vapor  hen-  no  longer,     I 

me    n:y    fre.-dmn,  and  -ur  rutlians  on   the    track.      I 

I  u'ter  no   Mireat  -  l)iit   if    I  fail  to  tal 
OF  the  brutal  001  whirh  I   ha\e  this  ni-i,t    . 

:iid  \oiir  myrmidons,   then  m.-i  ,    Ib   ,.,  ;.  tail  me  in  mv 

"  u  '  (  :  i    the    outlaw.    •    be 


122  Tin:  SCOUT. 

fore  daylight  1  will  conduct   you   from   this  place.     Your 
shall  be  restored  to  you.     You  shall  be  five.      I  then  know  yov. 
no  more — I  fling  from  me  the  name  of  kinsman." 

••  Not  more  heartily  than   I.     Ulack   Rider,  bandit,  onfl 
radian  !      1    shall    welcome    you    to    the   combat   by   any    > 
sooner  than  that  which  my  father  has  m.  '  in  my  ear-;." 

Morton  bestowed  a  single  glance  on  tin*  speaker,  in  which  all 
the  hellish  hate  spoke  out  which    had  so  long 
yet  working  in  his  bosom.     The  latter  met  the  ghr'v-e  uith  o1  3 
more  cool  and  steady,  if  far  less  lull  of  malignity. 

"  l>e  it,  then,  as  he  wills  it  !"  he  exclaimed,  when  the  outhnr 
had  retired  ;  "  he  sliall  find  no  fonli.-h  tenderm 
heart,  working  for  his  salvation  !  If  \ve  mus^  meet— -if  he  wib 
force  it  upon  me — then  God  have,  mercy  upon  us  both,  for  1  wit) 
have  none.!  It  is  his  own  seeking.  Let  him  abide  it  !  And 
yet,  would  to  God  that  this  necessity  might  pass  me  by  !  Some 
other  arm  —  some  other  weapon  than  mine  —  may  do  me  ju.- -ti-.v, 
and  acquit  me  of  this  cruel  duty  !'' 

Long  and  earnest  that  night,  was  the  prayer  <xf  f'lnrence,  that 
he  might  he  spared   from  that  strife  whir  ii,  so  far,  threatened  t<; 
he  inevitable.     Yet  he  made  not  this   prayer  because  ••»!'  an; 
affection  —  whicii,   under   the    circumstances,   must    have    ' 
equally  misplaced   and  unnatural  —  which   he    bo-v  his  kinsman 
Thev  had  never  loved.     The  feelings  -:f  brotherhood   had 
uni'elt  by  either.      Their  moods  had    IK-CII  wai  first 

—  it  does  not  need  that  we  should  inquire  why  The  sweet 
dependencies  of  mutual  appeal  and  coiilid  8  unknown  to, 

and  unexercised  by,  either;  and,  so  ia;1  as  tin  ir  .  ynipathies  were 
interested,  Clarence,  like  the  other,  v.-ould  hao-  felt  no  more 
scruple  at  encountering  Kdward  Onway  in  battle,  than  in  n 

any  indiiferent  person,  who  was  equally  his  own  and  the  foe 
of  his  country. 

I'.ut  there  was  something  shocking  t"  the  social  SCUM-,  in  such 
a  c'.nilict,  which  prompted  the  prayers  of  the  youth  that  it  might 
be  avoted;  and  this  prayer,  it  may  be  added,  was  only  ma.le 
when  the  excitement  which  their  conference  had  induced. 
partly  over.  His  praver  was  one  of  reflection  and  the  mim! 
His  Mo.xl  took  no  part  in  the  entreaty.  At  moments,  when 


THINiiS    IN     KMlii:\u.  TJ3 

.  moved    hy   mei,  ined    the 

while    he    strove    in    prayer  —  the    hoon  which   he    implored  waft 

and,  rising  from  his  knees,  he  thought  of  nothing  hut 

:;ife  and  the  vengeance  which  it  pron  rhaps 

1    pr«'\aile  !    even    after    the    supplication    was 

ended.      It    minted  in  with  the    feelings  which  followed   it.  and 

v.  hniever  they  hecame    excited,  the    revulsion    cea>ed    entirely, 

vliich    a    more    iteliherate    thouglit    of    the    >ul  j 

;ied.     Tlie  passion   of  the  gladiator  was  ^ti!l  wan. 
the  prayrr  u  of  the  Chri>tian  man. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THiMJS    I.\     K.MHRYl'. 


FJI\VAKP  Mnin-nN  kept  hi-;  promise.      I5ef»re  the  dawn  of  tb« 
d-iy   he    n-least-d    IPS   kinsman   from    prison.      JIc  I..-'.! 
v  >«'iit  his  followers  Out  of  the  way  —  all  save  the  land- 
-who    rould    seareely    he    counted    one    of  them  — 
and    some   two  or   three    more   upon  whom   he    thought 
relv.      II  I  without    suflifient   motive    for  t:  :i.  — 

lie  had  hi.s  apprelieiiM«ms  of  that  unruly  and  insnhordinate  sjiirit 
which  tliev  had  already  shown,  and  which,  haflled  . 

•  onahly  believed   mitLrhi  I  If  in' 

\  ;ea  of  honor  prompted  him  at  all  ha. 

OD,  the  destruction  of  wh<un  would  1,-ave  heeu 
to  him  a  source    of  the    j;r«  tioiL      Oontradictk)] 

this  sort  are  not  uncommon  ain«>ii£  minds  which   h.ae  heeu  suh- 

influences.       It  uas    }\->t  a  principle,  hut    p 
;-;i    t«>  thi^  :;imily.      i 

-tiuj:  of  l;i-  connection  with  the  i: 
M  "f  .shamr  to  ha\  • 

inal  wl-:"l    <  '  .,de  was  i  U)    liiin 

di  his   departure.      M<»rton,  aiso    monnte^ 

nd    the  •  |  hich    the    rohher* 


1-1  I  UK   SCOUT. 

had  chosen  for  their  temporary  refuge.     He  then  spoke  at  part 
ing. 

"Colonel  Conway,  your  path  is  free,  rind  you  are  also!  He- 
f  »re  you  lies  the  road  to  the  Watcree,  with  which  you  are  suf 
ficiently  acquainted.  Here  we  separate.  I  have  fulfilled  my 
pledges.  When  next  we  meet  I  shall  remind  you  of  yours.  Till 
then,  farewell." 

!!••  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  hut  striking  his  rowel  fiercelv 
into  the  flanks  of  his  horse,  he  galloped  rapidly  1  a-'k  to  ".• 
place  which  he  had  left.  The  eye  of  Clarence  fo'.'i.wed  him 
with  an  expression  of  stem  defiance,  not  nnmi.t^led  with  Padness, 
while  he  replied  : — 

"  I  will  not  fail  thee,  he  that  meeting  when  it  may.  Sad  as 
the  necessity  is,  I  will  not  shrink  from  it.  I,  too,  have  my 
wrongs  to  avenge,  Edward  Conway.  I,  too,  acknowledge  that 
instinct  of  hate  from  the  beginning,  Avhich  will  make  a  labor  of 
l<>ve  of  this  work  of  vengeance.  I  have  striven,  but  fruitlessly, 
for  its  suppression ;  —  now  let  it  have  its  way.  The  hand  of 
fate  is  in  it.  We  have  never  loved  each  other.  We  Irive  both 
eoually  doubted,  distrusted,  disliked  —  and  these  instincts  1. 
strengthened  with  our  strength,  grown  with  our  growth,  and 
their  fruits  are  here  !  Shall  I,  alone,  regret  them  ?  Shall  they 
revolt  my  feelings  only?  No!  I  have  certainly  no  tear — I 
shall  endeavor  to  free  myself  from  all  compunction!  Let  the 
fctrit'e  come  when  it  may,  be  sure  1  shall  be  last  to  say,  '  Hold  off 
—  are  we  not  brethren?'  You  fling  away  the  ties  of  blood,  do 
you  i  Know  from  me,  Edward  Conway,  that  in  flinging  away 
these  ties,  you  fling  from  you  your  only  security.  They  I 
often  protected  you  from  my  anger  before — they  shall  protect 
you  no  longer." 

And  slowly,  and  solemnly,  while  the  youth  spoke,  did  he 
wave  his  open  palm  toward  the  path  taken  by  his  brother.  But 
he  wasted  no  more  time  in  soliloquy.  Prudence  prompted  him, 
without  delay,  to  avail  himself  of  the  freedom  which  had  been 
given  him.  He  knew  not  what  pursuers  might  be  upon  hib 
path.  lie  was  not  satisfied  that  his  kinsman  would  still  be  true, 
without  evasion,  to  the  assurances  which  he  had  given  in  a 
mood  of  unwonted  magnanimity.  He  plied  his  spurs  freely 


THIN 


:     his     .-!•• 

Another  moment   found  him  j>n-^iu^  toward  th»-  -\\amp. 
Hut  be  had  Karceljr  commenced  his 

hi-  ears,  in  a  !": 

liaml.  ci;  rid  in  LT  out  his  faithful  ; 

ami  adherent.  Jack  Jlann: 

"Ah,    true   and   trusty    .Ja<  k.      \.  indful 

of   y.,ur    friend  —  wortl.  ,:id    friends    -  I    mi-M    well    i 

looked   to 

much.      If  * 

litlr " 

••  Worked   tlr.1 

iloft  the   !  .:::ly  lnit  ID 

iiistrunicnt,    \vith    one     hand,    he    _  .  ith    the    other    the 

extended  hand  of  his  -upcrior. 

"I    couldn't  see   the     fellow    handl- 

Clan-:  -  I        I'    DO  . •:  •    '  '.•       . 
knowed    that     'twould 

was    mighty   dub'ous   ti  f(.r 

y.  t  I  couldn't  work 

X'onr-    for    Lrood  and   all.  and    thai  'rate. 

I    didn't    pretty    much  kl 
that    Polly    Lonirli; 

•it    oil   her-elf.    for     I    di  :   '    tbil  r.     If    I    liad 

nee.    I    don't    thinl, 

of    him    that    tumbled.      I'm  a    ihinkir.  :    ha'    drawn    i  ; 

that  i-ht  more  ni<rh  to    yr-nr'n.  if    • 

n     that   your     father    h:,d     fat    j^Tillg     Iv!\\a:-i 
nan,' 

ra'al,  projHT  ki: 
him   out  of    liarm  ^    \\  :.\  ,   a:. 
of  him." 

Lrot    you    into   tlui: 
than      an\       .-arjH-nt     tin1    • 

for  him 


I'M  TIII:    SCOUT. 

ence  — don't  say  anythint:  more  in  his  favor,  or  I'll  stun"  my 
with  moss  and  pine  gum  whenever  you  open  your  lips  to  speak. 
You've  stood  by  him  long  enough,  and  done  all  that  natur1 
called  for.  and  more  than  w;is  nateral.  Half  the  men  I  kno\\ , 
if  they  had  ever  been  saved  by  any  brother,  as  you've  been 
i  by  him,  would  ha' sunk  a  toolh  into  his  heart  that  wouldn't 
ha'  worked  its  way  out  in  one  winter,  no  how.  But  you've  done 
with  him  now,  I  reckon  ;  and  it'  you  ain't.  I'm  done  with  you. 
there'll  be  no  use  for  us  to  travel  together,  if  you  ain't  ready 
to  u<i- your  knife  agen  Edward  Comvuy  the  same  a<  agin  any  other 
tory." 

"Iii-  satisfied.  Jack.     I'm  sworn  to  it  —  nay  to  him  by 

oath  — when  we   next    meet    !•>  make  our  battle  final.     It  was  on  this 
condition  that  he  set  me  ' 

"  Well.  he'>  not  so  mean  a  skunk  after  Till,  jf  he's  ready  to  fight  it 
out.     I  didn't  think  .he  was  bold  enough   for  that.     But  it  is  all  the 
better.      I  only  \\>  pe  that  when  the  time  comes.  I'll  be  the  one  to 
fair  play.      I'll  stand  beside  you,  and  if  he  flattens  you  —  which.  ' 
knows,  I  don't  think  it's  in  one  of  his  inches  to  do  —  v,  by.  he'll  only 
have   to  flatten    another.     It's  cl'ar  to  you  now,  Clarence,  that  you 
knows  all  about  him." 

"  Fes!      He  is  the  lc::der  of  the  Black  Riders.      He  declared  it  with 
his  own  ' 

"  When    he    couldn't    help    it    no    longer.     AVhy,    Clarence.    In- 
lit    them    fellows    a'ter   you    that    tuk    you,      I    didn't 
it,  bi.l    1    knows    it    je-t    the    same    as    if    I    did.      But,    though 
you    know    that    he's  a   tory  and  a   Black    Rider,  there's  a  thousand 
viil.  .  been    doing,    ever    since    we    played    together,    that 

\    nothing    about,    and    I'm   minded    of    one    in    preticular 

'     happened    \\lien     you    was     at    college     in     Kngland.    by      the 
coming    of    old    .lake     Clarkson! — You    'member    .lake    ClaiK 
that  planted  a  short  mile  from  your  father^   place,  don't   you1.'  — he 
had  agnail  patch  of  farm,  and  tli.;  the  river,   like  my 

self." 

-. 
very  well  —  I  remember  him." 

""Well,    him    I    mean.     Old    Jake     had    a     daughter — I     i 
.    don't     much     remember    her.    Mary     Clark^on  — as    ^\,ry    and 
i  man   9ei   c\<  -    on.      1    had  a   liking    for  th. 


THINGS  IN     EMBRYO,  1 ' '  i 

—  I   own    it,    (  ami   if  BO   lie   lliin.i;-   hadn't    turned   out  as 

th. y  diil.  I  mouirht    ha' married    her.      I  Jut    Wt   a    <Iod\    ! 

didn't,   toi  i-.vard   Conway   irot    tin-   better   of    her,    and 

1   anything  about    it.    poor   Mary    v 
a  bundle    <h«-    had   no    law   to   rarry.      When    they   pushed    tin- 

told   a  lung  iral's  >tory    how   Kdward    had    promised   to   marry  her, 
and  «>n   Ilnly    Hook,    and    all    that    sort    of    thinir.   which 

pretty  much   out  OJ 
it,  but   for  l;er  to  be  such  a  child  as  to  believe  it.     Hut   no  matter. 

Mir  was    mil:!,  bout  it.     Old  Jake  carried  a  ritle  i. 

than  three  months   for  Kdward  ('onway,  and  he  took  that  time    to 
make  his  lir-t   trip  to   Florida  ;  win  re,  I'm  thinking,  bad  as  he  was 

•i'd  to  be   a  great    deal  there  th., 

picked    up  all    hi-    tory    notions,    from   having   too   much   dealing 

with  John    Stuart.  Jhe    Indian   a.irent,  who,  you   know,   is    jist   as 

bad   an  inimy  of  our  liberties  as  ever  ci>me  out  of  the  old  country. 

'..  but   th.  o  tell.      I'oor   Mary  couldn't  stand  the 

-lion    of    IMward    Conway  and    the  di-kivery  of   h*  r    vitiation. 

i    f.ir    the    poor   child,    who.    you 

kn«'"  -'itied  ;    for   it's    miuhty 

.n     in    thi<    \vorld    that  no    whrn    tin  ; 

.    a    man    they  have  a    likin.ir  for.     Old   Jake   was   miirhty 

1    Moliy.   his  \\ife.   who.   by   nature,  was   a 

made    hi  :  niulit   and  day  ab«.i/  the 

'till    her    heart    was  wi.rn    d   wn    in    IP  and   she 

didn\    dan-    to    look    up.    and    trimbled    win-never    anyli. 

'    la.-t.  that    she    \\elit 

one   niuht.    noliody     knows   \\har,    and    left    no   :  \Vell, 

re    all    turned    out    on    the    sareh, 

to     be    the     lir-t     to    tilld 
what    had   lieconn-  "f    !• 

lid  you  lind  her.  .la- 
in't  find  her.  Clan-ncr  ;  but  found  .  -1   she 

und  her  1  D  the  ban' 

but  her  b  i  ka  at  the  ; 

all  ftbOUt  :i'" 


128 


THK  s< 


««I  Lave  now  a  faint  recolle-ction  of  tliis  story,  Baiini.-ter.  1 
must  liavo  heard  it  while  in  Kngland,  or  soon  alter  inv  return,' 

" 'Twaw  a  bad  business,  Clarence ;  and  I  didn't  feed  the  small 
est  part  of  it.  I  didn't  know  till  I  come  across  the  g;il'-  bonnet 
how  great  a  liking  I  had  for  her.  I  reckon  I  cried  like  a  baby 
over  it.  From  that  day  I  mistrusted  Edward  Comvay  worse 
than  p'ison.  There  was  a-many  things,  long  before  that,  th.-s* 
made  me  suspicion  him  ;  hut  after  that,  Clarence,  I  alw.- ys  toll 
when  I  was  near  him,  as  if  1  saw  a  great  snake,  a  viper,  or  a 
in-  (  ka-in,  and  looked  all  round  for  a  chunk  to  m«s!i  il  head 
with." 

"And  what  of  her  old  father,  Jack?" 

"  Why,  he's  come  up  to  join  your  troop.  I  was  so  full  of 
tlrlnking  'bout  other  matters  yisterday,  when  I  saw  yon,  that  I 
quite  forgot  to  tell  you.  He's  been  fighting  below  with  Mari 
on's  men,  but  he  wanted  to  look  at  the  olo>  range,  and  so  he 
broke  off  to  go  under  Stunter ; — but  the  true  story  is,  I'm  think 
ing,  that  he's  hcarn  how  Edward  Conway  is  up  here  somewhar, 
a-iighting,  and  he  comes  to  empty  that  rifle  at  his  head.  He'll 
his  prayers  over  the  bullet  that  he  uses  at  him,  and  I  reckon 
will  make  a  chop  in  it,  so  that  he  may  know,  when  his  inimy  is 
tumbled,  if  the  shot  that  does  the  business  was  the  one  that  bad 
a  commission  for  it." 

"And  Clarkson  is  now  with  us?     In  the  swamp  ?" 

"  I  left  him  at  the  '  Big  Crossings.'     But,  Clarence,  don't  you 

say  nothing  to  him  about  this  business.     It's  a  sore  thing  with 

him  "till,  though  the  matter  is  so  long  gone  by.    But  everything 

helps  to  keep  it  alive  in  his  heart.     His  old  woman's  gone,  to 

h»  r  long  homo;  and  though  she  had  a  rough  tongue  and  a  long 

yet  he  was  usen  to  her;  and,  when  he  lost  little  .Mary,  and 

i  her,  and  the  tories  burnt  his  house,  it  sort-a  cut  him  up, 

and  branch,  and  made  him  fretful  and  vexatious,     lint  he'll 

light,  riaivijce,  lik<»  old  bhr/es —  there's  no  mistake,  in  him." 

"I  will  be  can-fill,  Jack  ;  but  a  truce  to  this.  We  have,  but 
iltle  time  fc.r  old  histories;  and  such  melancholy  onefl  as  tlie.^o 
may  well  be  forgotten.  We  have  enough  before  us  sufficiently 
sad  to  <!'  ma:id  al!  our  attention  and  a\raken  our  griefs.  T« 
businov-  i-rnv,  Jack.  We  have  idled  long  enough." 


THIN.i-    l\    KMUIiYO. 

•  U<       ;.  .  eolonel.      Say  the  word." 

kc  the  back  track,  and  see  after  these  lUack  ttider>.     \Ve 
IN-  fairly  ••ucMunk-r  them  — to   heat   them  — tn 

make  the  cross  in  blood  on  the  brea  •  best  of  th 

"Edward  Conway  at  the  head  of  them  !" 
"Edward  Comvay  no  longer,  John  lianni.-ter.      ). 
disclaims  the  name  with  scorn.     Let  him  have  the  nai 
the  doom,  which  is  due  to  the  chief  of  the  handitti  which  hr 

IB.     That  name  lias  saved  him  too  long  alre;;<iv.      '. 
tliat  lie  now  disclaims  it,  Avith  all  its  sccuirl-  --.     Aft  t  ! 
Hannistcr.      If  you    have   skill    , 

what  has    passed   between    us,  he   will    he   <>n   my   hi 
shortly.     He  may  be,  even  now,  with  all  hi*  band.     1   mi, 
prepare.]  for  him,  and  must  distrust  him.      h  i 
importance  that  all  his  movements  should  be  known 
discretion  1  leave  it.     Away.     Find  me  in  the  swamp  ! 
at  the  Little  Crossings.     We  must  leave  it  for  the  i  onirn;. 
three  days  more.     Away.     Let  your  hoi  heels." 

A  brief  grasp  of  the   hand,  and   a  kind  \\  ,1   tl:-1 

een  the  youthful  partisan  and  his  ti  wer, 

latter  dashed  abruptly  into  the  v.  amp, 

while  the  former,  taking  an  upper  route,  purged  the  win< 
•  »f  the  river,  till  he  reached  the  point 
f"llnw   th-  ,.f  either   for  the 

h')u>«-  of  Mu-gs,  and  observe,  somewhat  further,  th> 
••f  the  outlawed  captain. 

'I  here,  evt  rything  had  the  appearance  of  a  rapid  i 

troopers,  coi  ercd  by  a  thick  wood,  -,  _  ,u-ing  to  rM-> 

. 

while    their   r:  ]y  or   in   grou; 

••\hile  away  the  brief  interval  of  time 
the  delay  of  their  chief  ojl'u-. 

lie,  meanwhile,  in   the  wigwam   of  M 

rations  which  bathVd  f-.r  the  time  his  habitual 
it  uj.on  the  same  bulk  which  he  had  mvMpicd  whi! 

' 

t"  that  fit  ,  which  the  lamil-.!- 

't  with  manifest  ODi  —did  in»t  seem  1;  »K1  c-in/agh  t"  riter 


l30  TUT    SCOUT. 

nipt.     At   length   the.   door  of  the.  apartment   opened,  and    me> 
presence  of  a  third  person  put  an  end  to  the  meditations  of   toe 

td  the  forbearance  of  the  other  party. 

The  inU-uder  was  a  youth,  apparently  not  more  than  seven 
teen  years  of  age.     Such  would  have  been  the  impression  «.m 
;IM\   mind,  oeca>ioiu'd  by  his  timid   bearing  and  slendei    figniv 
indi-rd,   lie,    would   have    been    called   undersixed   for  seventeen 
I!nt  tlicrt)  wa>  that  in  his  pale, well-defined  features,  which  sp.-ke 

.,ter  maturity  of  thought,  if  not  of  time,  than  belon- 
this  ea'-ly  period  in  life.     The  lines  of  his  cheeks  and  mom! 
were  'nil  of  intelligence  —  that  intelligence  which  results  from 
eariv   ;ij.  \irtics  and   the   pressure   of  serious  necessities.     The 
frank,  iree,  heedless  inditferencc  of  the  future,  whicv    shines  mit 
in  the  countenance  of  boyhood,  seemed  utterly  ob/iierated  iron.. 
his  !,  .e   brow  was  already  touched   with  wrinkles,  that 

appeared  strangely  at  variance  with  the  short,  closely  cropped 
black  hair,  the,  ends  of  which  were  apparent  beneath  the  sloucheo 
cap  of  fur  he  wore.  The  features  were  pensive,  rather  pretty, 
Indeed,  but  awfully  pale.  Though  they  expressed  great  intelli 
and  the  presence  of  an  active  thought,  yet  this  did  not 
t<>  have  produced  its  usual  result  in  conferring  confidence' 
'['he  look  of  the  youth  was  downcast  and  when  his  large  dark 
-  ventured  to  meet  those  of  t\,h  speaker,  they  seemed  to 
er  and  to  shrink  within  themselves;  and  this  desire,  ap 
peared  to  ^ive  them  an  unsteady,  dancing  motion,  wliich  hei 
painful  to  tin:  beholder,  as  it  seemed  to  indicate,  apprehension,  if 
not  fright,  in  the,  proprietor.  His  voice  faltered  too  when  he 
spVKr,  and  was  only  made  intelligible  by  his  evident  effort  at 

deliberateness. 

that  of  the  rest  of  the  troop,  the  costume  of  the  youth 
black.  A  belt  of  black  leather  encircled  his  waist,  in 
which  pistols  and  n  knife,  wen-  ostentatiously  .stuck.  Vet  h.:-\v 
Fhouhl  .>ne  so  timid  be  expected  to  use  them?  Trembli 
tiie  presence  of  a  friend,  what  firmness  could  he  posse.- s  in  the 
eiif-ouuter  with  a  foe?  Where  was  the  nerve,  the  strength.  f.»r 
the,  (leac-.ly  issues  of  battle?  It  seemed,  indeed,  a  mockery 
of  fate  —  a  ciiielty  —  to  send  forth  so  feeble  a  frame  and  *  fear 
ful  a  spirit,  while  the  thunder  and  the  threatening  storm  were 


THIN<;>  IN   :  131 

Hi  the  wky.      But  no   such  scruples   appeared  to  alllict  the  chief; 
i^  seen;    '•  o~f  timUity  in  tlie 

•ures  and   manner  .i-h.      Perhaps,  In- 

•  i  the  natural  ellect  of  his  own  stern  manner, which 
.ather  increased  than    softened    as    he    li>tcnr.l  to  : 

•  which  tlie  hoy  made  that  all  wa*. ready  for  a  movement. 
••  Vnu  have  lingered,  i 

*'  H;'.rion  and  the  ensign  \\ere.  not  with  the  rest,  sir,  and  1  had 
t<-  l.iok  for  them  !" 

««  So  !  —  plotting  again,  were  they  (      Hut  they  shall  find  their 
ii  yet  !      i  lil'm  1  and  deaf  fools,  that  will  not  content 

th   heing  knaves  to  their  own   profit,  hut 

-  knaves,  to    their    utter   ruin.      But   go,  i 

that  your  own  horse  is  MC!  hark  ye,  do  not  he  following 

my  heels.      I  have  told  you  repeatedly,  keep  the 
rear  when  we  ,  ucing,  the  front  only  when  we  are  •.••treat 

ing.      Kemeiii. 

The  hoy  howed  respectfully,  and  left  the  room. 

••And  now,  Muggs,  you  are  hu;>t!r  -k.      I  know  why, 

therefore,  ami    on    what    sulject.      No\v.   do    you    know    th 

6  hut  to  reveal  to   the   troop  the 

la-t  night,  to  have  them  tear  you  and  your  hoi:  1  )o 

yon    fcrget    that    desertion    is    death,    according    ;  own 

"I   am   no   longer   one   of  tne  troop,"   replied   the   landlord 
hastily. 

•'  Ay,  that    may    he    in    one    son.Ht.hut    is    scarcely  >o    in 
other.      You  I  from  your  oath  tl... 

•<    duty.      Hut.  let   them  hear  )•• 
of  yi»u:>elf,  as   1;. 

and   they  will    s«»'n   convince   yu   that   they  holv!  lirly 

li<iund  to  thei;.  .1   your  lii. 

They    will   only    release    you    l»y    tearing    \\h;»; 
in-." 

"  Well,  hut  cappii:. 

no  r«-ji>nu  wl.;,  know  the  advice   I 

(licit  .Idn't    take    th 

\\  ith    dai.^..  i-l  Q  :i  hii 


132  Tin: 

army,  a-gaining  ground   every  day.     Yhere's  Sumter'aiul  Ma* 
ion,  and  Pickens,  and  Maham,  and " 

"  Psbaw,  Muggs  i  what  a  d — d  catalogue  is  this;  and  what 
matters  it  all  1  Be  it  as  you  say  —  do  I  not  know?  Did  I  not 
know,  at  the  beginning,  of  all  these  dangers?  They  do  mt 
terrify  me  now,  any  more  than  then  !  These  armies  that,  vuu 
speak  of  are  mere  skeletons." 

"  They  give  mighty  hard  knocks  for  skilitons.  There's  that 
aftair  at  Ilobkirk's " 

"  Well,  did  not  llawdon  keep  the  field  ?" 

"  Xot  over-long,  cappin,  and  now " 

"Look  you,  Muggs,  one  word  for  all.  I  am  sworn  to  the1 
tioop.  1  Avill  keep  my  oath.  They  shall  find  no  faltering  in 
me.  Living  or  dead,  1  stand  by  them  to  the  last;  and  I  give 
you  these  few  words  of  counsel,  if  you  would  be  safe.  I  will 
keep  secret  what  you  have  said  to  me,  for,  I  believe,  you  meant 
me  kindly  ;  but  let  me  hear  no  more  of  the  same  sort  of  counsel. 
Another  word  to  the  same  effect,  and  I  deliver  you  over  to  the 
tender  mercies  of  those  with  whom  the  shortest  prayer  is  a  span 
too  long  for  an  offender  whose  rope  is  ready  and  whose  tree  ia 
near/1 

These  words  were  just  spoken  as  the  boy  reappeared  at  the 

and  informed  the  chief  that  the  troop  was  in  motion.     The 

latter  rose  and  prepared  to  follow.     He  shook  hands  with  the 

l::i)dl".-d  at  parting,  contenting  himself  with  saying  the  single 

,  "  Remember  I" — in  a  tone  of  sufficient  warning  —  in  reply 

to   the-    other's    farewell.      In   this,   Edward   Morton   displayed 

.•mother  sample  of  the  practised  hypocrisy  of  his  character.     Jlis 

iM.'-ntai  soliloquy  after  leaving  the  landlord,  was  framed  ir 

tr.ieh  language  as  the.  following  — 

'  1  like  your  counsel,  Master  Muggs,  but  shall  be  no  such  fool 
put  myself  in  your  power  by  showing  you  that  1  like  it. 
I  were  indeed  a  sodden  ass,  just  at  this  moment,  when  half  of 
my  troop  suspect  me  of  treachery,  to  suffer  you  to  hear,  from 
my  own  lips,  that  I  actually  look  with  favor  upon  your  counsel. 
Yet  the  old  fool  re.,  iitly.  This  is  no  region  for  me  now 

It  will  net  be  mu:;h  longer.     The  British  power  is  passing  away 
•»pidly.     Rawdou  will  not  sustain  himself  much  longer.     Corn- 


THIN-,-    IN     EMBRYO, 

w.dlis   frit    tli;»t.    and     hence    his    pretend- d    in\  aH'>n    of     '. 

.•illy  to  conceal   his  own   Big]        i;  il 

\\h:;t  cart-  I  for  him  or  them.    .M  Mich  nt  ii: 

B,  and  that  is  \\  i -11  n\:.-:\i  u<>.      I  -.-If  when  1    fancied 

that  the  rebel-;  «>;i!d  n.-t  niBfofa 

:ind  if  I  wail  t..  MC  the  hunt  up,  1  shall  have  a  plentiful  harvest  from 
>\\n    full;,  i    i, ut    of  Hi.-  well 

-    1    can,  and  \\illi   all    p<.s>i!.|r  spe<d.      Hut    no   landlords   for 
ate,     A  wise  man  nn-ils  none  of  any  kind.     They  are  for  your 
adln-ivr    p<  ople  ;    folks    who    believe    in    friend 
ships    and    love-,    ::iid    tliat    x>rt    of    thiiiLT.  Have    I,    then, 
nonV—  i:..                    Ay,    there    are    a    tli..;ism«l    i;i    that    tine,      If    I 
can  win  f,u\  whe!h<r   l.y  fair  w.ird   <,r  fea:'                  .  \\.11  :     It   will 
not    tli-  n    he    hard    to    hreak     fnun    tlie-e     .--.••(•uiidn-ls.      Hut,    here 

llleV 

Such    wa<    lli,     train    of     Kdward  U   he    Kit 

t!u-    landlord.      Folh.wed    liy  the    hoy    of    \\hoiu    \\e    have    all 

.'•n.  he  eantend   forth  to  the  wood  where  the  troop  had  forimd. 

a:;d  -  them  wiiii  -'.hiirrly,  eye, 

:i«Mjt  military  ambition,  and  eertainl\ 

like  his  brother,  n  considerabl  •    tal'-m.     His  ^laiu-r 

im.    excellent    dn  Sfl   and   n<pec!    of    hi- 
troop.      IJexi.nd    ihi».    and    U]  ::ion    purp 

which  had  prompt,  d  the  A  ell  of  men  as  leader,  he  had 

inpathies  uith  them.     E\vn  as  1:,- l,,,,k,  d  and   Bulled  upon  their 

d  t lii-oii.-: h  hi.  mind  — 

•id  I  inn  i  into  tin'  .sivam^  MO\V.  and  withdraw  my 

own,  ii  were   no  bad  lini-h  to  a  doubt!  . 
but    I     IIHI-.T    i;-r    tin  m     snmi  thinn     furthc:.     Th.  y    can       . 

i  no  man  should  tlr  ;k  i> 

ended." 

n    to    the  examinati.  n.     Tln-ri    followed    the 
in-Jnu-ii..'  which    do    not    require    that 

'li'-m.     T;  that    concern    our   narrative   will 

ind   i:i  d>. 

in-iy    mention.  the    outlaw^    made    hi- 

ment-    \\  i 


184  TII,*:  SPOUT 


his  liH'H  \\hieh  hau  r6OCl)GiI  his  eai>.  He  took  care  to  sepaivu* 
tho.  sur-prru'd  'illicers,  in  such  a  way  as  to  deprive  them,  t'-.r  th» 
ttt,  of  all  chance  of  communion;  thon,  taking;  tho.  advance 
he  led  the  troop  forward,  and  was  v»on  found  pursuing  tho  track 
lately  taken  by  ( 'Ian  ':.o-  v'onway 


CHAPTER   XJ11. 

\KU     l'lll.\<  iPLKS     DiSCLSSKD    MV    OLD    l,\\\  * 

THK  last  words  of  the  chief  of  tho  Hlack  Riders,  as  lie  le<; 
the  presence  of  the  landlord,  had  put  that  worthy  into  a  most 
U'lei.viahlr  frame  of  mind.  He  had  counselled  Morton  for  hi> 
»wn  henelit — lie  himself  had  no  soliish  consideration*.  He 
Battered  himsell  that  the.  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  the  p,.r 
'•etwecn  which  the  country  was  divided,  not  to  speak  of  his 
mutilated  condition,  would  secure  him  from  danger,  no  matfcr 
which  of  them  should  finally  ohtain  tho  ascendency.  That  he 
should  !'«>  still  held  responsible  to  his  late  comrades,  though  lie 
no  I  !  in  their  pursuits  and  no  longer  shared  their 

Js,  was  a  ni"dium  equally  now  and  disquieting  through  which 
.eijuirod  to  regard  the  suhject.  The  stern  threat  with 
which  Morton  concluded,  left  him  in  little  douht  of  the  uncertain 
tenure  of  that  security  which  ho,  calculated  to  find  among  his 
v  d  friends;  and,  at  the  same  time,  awakened  in  his  heart  some 
and  rather  hitter  feelings  in  reference  to  the  speaker. 
Hitherto,  from  (.Id  affinities,  and  because  of  some  one  of  :'; 
tameless  moral  attachments  which  incline  us  f'avorahly  to  ; 
vi  luals  to  whom  \\  o  otherwise  owe  nothing,  he  had  heen  as  well 
.li.-posed  roward  Edward  Morton  as  he  conld  ho  toward  anv 
individual  not  absolutely  hound  to  him  1>\-  hlood  or  ii:tere:t 
lie  had  seen  enough  to  like  in  him,  to  make  him  solicitors  oi 
his  j»ucve,,>es,  a;:d  to  lead  him  in  repeated  instances,  as  in  thnt 
which  incurred  the  late  reluike,  to  volnntec-r  his  suggestions,  and 
to  take  some  pains  in  acquiring  iiii.>rn,ation  which  sometimes 


• 

ur:illy  ciioUL'h.  i"   confer  with    him,   \\i:h    U>1 

number  of   topic^   Mridh  io   liiin>«  which    the 

troop    knew    nothing  tii    the 

'f     till'    out  lav.  ,     III)  1     l!"t     liivamilii:    o!     tha*      • 

f    the  latter.   \\hii-h  - ->lvc   him  t<»  adept    the 

which     lie  ;  urn     with     loatlii;;-.    the     landlord, 

r'l-lt    indiirnant    at     the    i  \\ith    which 

he    had     In  and     his    indiiMiatioii    Avas    nipt    ' 

l>y  the    di^(jiiietiiiir    dnuli'-  •  y    which 

:  ton   had  ju-t   at    the  moment    \\  !. 

~t    unfavorable    t->    the    outlaw,   tli 
(juietly    thrown    open,    and    he    Ixheiii. 
•irpri>e.  t  i  a  worthy 

•in.i;    in  upon    him.       The    latter   needed    no  invitation   to 

li-hind   him  our  coininny  at   hi-t.       '. 

in   pretie'lar.  that    them    1-1. 

waited 
wi-h  I  WM 
sari  in.  M 
to  ma,. 

"  Al,  i  1    the  other 

with  an  iid   not 

nice      ••  'I'- 

'i  ha'  dnink  me  oui  .  it   thev 

i  much  lon-j.  r.      A   L-iir  of    leinoi  - 

and    the:. 
:    upon    them    lolii;    suail 

"f  Suppl. 
lenance  of    the    landlord,    a-    In-    <L  Jailed    ihc    • 

:.d    \\hcn   ;  nad    Jini>i.  .lly  re- 

- 


136  'I  HI:   3COt  r. 

"I'm  afear'd,  I-aae  .Mug-.:-,  you  a'n'l  Showing  clean  hands 
above  the  table.  Tha1  •!'  talking  that  don't  Itlind  in\ 

t  it  stop-  my  ears.  h-n't  I  know  it  would  he  mighty  on 
null-nil  if  you  wa'n't  glad  enough  to  -ell  yowkagSOf  lemons,  and 
your  kags  of  sugar,  and  your  gallons  of  ruin,  pretic'larly  \\htn. 
in  place  of  them,  you  can  count  me  twenty  times  their  valley 
in  Hritish  gould?  No,  .Mii-i:-,  that  -<>ri  o'  talking  won't  do  for 
me.  Take  the  cross  out  of  your  tongue  and  be  prctic'lar  in  what 
you  say,  for  I'm  going  to  s'arch  you  mighty  ck)Be  thi- tin.' 
you." 

'•  Well  but.  Supple,  you  wouldn't  have  me  take  nothing  from 
them  that  drinks  and  eats  up  my  substance?" 

"Who  talks  any  such  foolishness  but  your-elf,  Mug  — 
don't.  I'm  for  your  taking  all  you  can  get  out  of  the  inimy  ; 
lor  it's  two  vxay-o!'  distressing  'em,  to  sell  'em  strong  drink  and 
take  their  gould  for  it.  The  man  that  drinks  punch  is  always 
the  vroiM  for  it  :  and  it  don't  better  hi-  business  !<»  make  him 
[my  for  it  in  guineas.  That's  not  my  meanin  I'm 

MI  another  track,  and  I'll  show  vou  both  rends  of  it  before  I'm 
llone." 

••  Why,  Supple,  you  talk*  and  looks  at  me  ^u-pieionsly,"  said  the 
landlord,  unable  to  withstand  the  keen,  in«|uirinir  .-lance-  .-!'  the 
-cout,  and  almost  as  little  able  to  conceal  hi-  :ipprrlirnM..iis  lest  some 
serious  di.-covrry  had  liren  made  to  hi-  detriment. 

"  Look  you.  I-aac  Mu,Lr.L;-.  do  you  see  Iliat  jteep-hole  there  in  the 
wall?  —  oil,  thar!  jest  one  side  of  the  \\indow--thr  prr]»-holr  in  the 

"  Yes,    I    see  it."    said    the    landlord,    \\ho-e    busy    !;• 
alrradv  engaged   in  thrusting  a  wadding  of  dry  moss  into  the  discov 
ered  aperture. 

"  Well,  it's  too  late  to  poke  at  it  nov.  ,  M uggs,"  said  the  other. 
"The  harm's  done  a'ready,  and  I'll  let  you  know  the  VTOFbt  of  it. 
Through  that  peep-hole,  last  ni.uht.  I  saw  \\lial  mgoii 

luTe  Minomr  \  on  ;  and  through  that  peep  hole,  it  was  this  same 
Polly  Longlips"  — lapping  his  ritle  as  he  spoke— "that  went 
olT  of  her  own  liking,  and  tumbled  one  big  fellow  ;  and  was 
mighty  vexatious,  now,  when  she  found  he-self  onable  to  tumble 
another." 


If   PBINCIPL1  >  LAWS          lol 

iker,"  mur 
mured  the  hiinlli)nl  tlattcrindy,  and  moving  '"  take  in  his  remaining 
hand  tin-  ol  lio-ium.  Hut  Supple  Jack  evidently  re 

coiled   at    so  doubtful   a   libertx  i  niL'crou-   I  1   drew 

-•ruinent     •  .pletrly    within    the   control    of    h: 

arm. 

:'   «>'   bashful  anionM 

•nd  \\hen  -he  puts  up  luTMi<»utli,  it  ain't   to  be  ki^ed  or  to 

thai     prctic'lar. 

lon't    think    I  mi-:i  ;    'twould    be  mighty 

iVard   of  anythini:  you    i  oiild  do  with    a 

rille  like  he;,  lia\inii   l-sil   one  nnu  t ••  p>  upon.      h\  (,n|y  tt  jraloiix 
thai  inak'  !•>  kn-p  my  Polly  out  of  the  arms  of 

natcral  enough,  you  know,  to  a  person  that 
a)." 

"Oh  ye-   very  nat'-ial.  Supple  •,  but  somehow,  it  seems  to  me  ns  if 
you  did  -u-picion  me,  Supple  — it  does,  I  declar'." 

ied  the  other,  promptly.      "I  suspicions 
little  bit  of  a  fool  of  yotirsc-lf  ;  and   I'\> 
;id  of  the  road  will  brin^r  you  up.     You  know, 
that    I  know  all  about  you  —  from  A  t«»  i//ard.      1  <  an  read 
you  lik  I  reckon  you'll  allow  that  I  have  larn'd 

;rn'd  any  other." 
"  Well.  Supple.  I  reckon   1  may  -ay  yu  know  me  pretty  much  as 

other    pi   ! 

(—   I    know  you   from  the  jump;  and   I 
'ial  you  did  once  ride  with  these 

;>p!e.   but—"  and  the  landlord  jumped  up  and  looked 

!>d.   with  all  his  eyes.  MS  far  ns  p 

into    tin-   -iirroimdiir.  i  mwhile,    with 

turba!  '  ined    the    st  at    which    he    had 

taken. 

saiij   he.    when   the  oth«T  had   returned. 
.:nvenJ«  <1  your  whole  establishment  In  at  both  of 

r  your  cypress  holl. 

:  •    ' 


138  THI:  S<  > 

tliat    pay    for   what    they    git,"    exclaimed    the   apprehensive   land 
lord. 

"  That's  the  very  p'int  I'm  driving  at,  Muggs.  You  know  well 
enough  that  if  our  hoys  had  a  gu.  >^  that  you  ever  rode  with  li, 

it  wouldn't  IK-  your  stump  of  an  arm  that  M  save  you  from  the 
ing  limb." 

did  hide  that   I   fou't.  (  n  the  British  >](]< 
said  the  oilier. 

"  In    the   \V(  Si  That's  the  BtOf; 

about  your  hurts,  and  all  that.      If  you   was  to  tell   them,   <T   if   I 
'    tell    them,  any    other  story  now,   that    had   the   least    smell 
of  the  truth  in  it,  your  shop  would  lie  shu!   up  for  <  ver  in  this  life, 
and  —  who    kno.  \  be    never    opened    in   the    next.      \Ycll, 

hen-  this   blessed    day   to  c<  nvart  you  to   rebellion. 
ry  peep-hole,  la-t   night,  1   heard  you,  with  my  own 
ears,    talkii  free   as   the   rankest   tory    in   all    the   AYateiee 

country." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  Supple,  wa'n't  that  nateral  enough,  when  the  house 
wor  full  of  to: 

"  T'wa'n't  nat<-ral  tj>  an  honest  man  at  any  time,"  replied  the 
other  indignantly  ;  "and  let  me  tell  you,  Muggs,  the  house  wa'n't  full 
—  only  Ned  Conway  was  here,  with  his  slippery  tongue  that's  a 
wheedling  you,  like  a  blasted  blind  booby,  Muggs,  to  your  own  de 
struction.  That  same  fellow  will  put  your  neck  in  the  noose  yet,  an! 
laugh  when  you're  iroing  up." 

A  prediction  so  confidently  spoken,  and  which  tallied  so  admira 
bly  with  the  s.-ivage  threat  uttered  by  the  outlaw  at  hi-  late  Departure . 
dro\r  the  b].;od  from  the  cheeks  of  the  landlord,  and  made  him  heed- 
the  harsh  lan-ua^e  in  which  the  scout  had  e\pres-ed  liim-elf. 

i  : — 

"  15ut  'twas  pretty  much  the  same  thin.ir.  Supple  — lie  was  their 
cappin,  you  know." 

plain  !     And  what  d<  -.nd  what  do  they 

about    him,     if    they    can    get     their    &  -d     without 

each    other?      It     wouldn't    be    .  a    coi'per.    the  l..ve   that's 

:     tiiem.      He'll    let    them    ham:,    and    they'll     hanir    him,    as 

soon    i  ,,rth    while    for   cither    t  Don't    I     know, 

Muggs?     Don't    I   know    that  ••nniving  strong  agin    him 


139 

<  Ulate  th:;' 

i  in  hold  Kaudon.  this  Ned  COMN\:I\   will  !»«•  the  first  to  kill 

a    halter':     He'll    ride 
.  and   when  Jhere  he'll   sink  to    the    V. 

ame.  and    he'll    so    work    il.  ! 
•ir  nc-ck    in    the    collar  without   \\ai;in-    to    hear   the 

Vie  clean  ipjo-ikm.  Supple.  1.  : .!y  this  morni; 

lioncd  the  captain  'liout  hN  men.  and  1  gin    iiiiu    D  I  to 

the   Lack  track    and    find  his   way    to  I 

d  never  d«-ai'  the  troop,  and  i 

about  it.  and  even  thieatened.  if  I  lalked  of  it  another  time  to  him,  to 
"  me." 

,•.  and  ni"  ••'!  the  other 

.    rein iy  ;  Imt  th:  'in  tlia!  he  nn-ar 

linMi   a    i  np    his    hand.      I! 

•  n'l  stop  tocount.      J.tii  1 

'hick,   ha:id  and   irlovr,  with   the 

chief     of      tli"      lliack    Riders,    thai     \.  U  iiim     wlij'.! 

do  ;  your     own     words,     h-  out     tha: 

still    lial.le    to    the    I.VA-    of     the    '  .    say 

10      til 

iy  what  /< 
when  you  come  in." 

M  it  ouL'ht  to  worry  you!     I'm  mighty  ^-rious 

in    tnis   luivinc-.      I'm    -oin-    to    I.,-    mi.iity    strick    uith  you.     I 

only 
i     them     that      I      h:id     BOH 

Well,    I     thi'-.i-ht     l 

in  a  l»o\\(  !  com; 
wilh    him    in    '  d   to  put    Mini 

Well,  \\lu-ii  I  -  him  —  ; 

like  a  Lrcr,llein:iii  bred  —  I   liad  a  call  to 
\\c     had     a    i  .nent     alioiit    our     li 

Third,    and    \\hat     lujsiiic^:    Parlyim-nt    l.a-l    U)     I'lo.  k     U] 
harbor,   and    | 


1-10  Tin;  BCOUT. 

Do     you    remember    all    them     matters    ami    specification.;,     feaac 
Bfuggs?" 

••  Well,  Supple,  I  can't  but  say  1  do.  We  did  have  (jujt,.  a  long 
argymcnt  when  the  lieutenant  was  a  dying,  and  jest  after  ihr 
burial." 

"No,  'twas  all  the  while  we  was  a  laying  in  the  trench;  for 
1  recollect  savin-  to  you.  when  YOU  waa  a  pitying  him  all  the 
time,  that,  ef  I  was  sorry  for  the  poor  man's  death,  I  wasn't 
sorry  that  I  kill  him,  and  I  would  shoot  the  very  next  one 
that  come  along,  jest  the  same  ;  for  it  made  the  gall  bile  up  in 
me  to  see  a  man  that  I  had  never  said  a  hard  word  to  in  all  inv 
life,  come  here,  over  the  water,  a  matter,  maybe,  of  a  thousand  miles. 
to  force  me  at  the  p'int  of  the  bagnet,  to  drink  stamped 
tea.  I  never  did  drink  the  tea  no  how.  For  my  own  drinking, 
I  wouldn't  give  one  cup  of  coffee,  well  biled,  for  all  the  ten  that 
was  ever  growed  or  planted.  But,  'twas  the  freedom  of  the 
thing  that  I  was  argying  for,  and  'twas  on  the  same  argyment 
that  I  was  willing  to  fight.  Now  that  was  the  time,  and  them 
was  the  specifications  which  made  us  argyfy,  and  it  was  only 
then,  when  I  thought  I  had  convarted  you  from  your  evil  ways, 
that  I  tuk  on  me  to  answer  for  your  good  conduct  to  our  boys. 
I  spoke  to  the  colonel  for  you,  jest  the  same  as  ef  I  had  know'd 
you  for  a  hundred  years.  It's  true  I  did  know  you,  and  the 
mother  that  bore  you,  and  a  mighty  good  sort  of  woman  she 
was;  but  it  was  only  after  that  argyment  that  I  felt  a  call  to 
speak  in  your  behalf.  Now,  Isaac  Muggs,  I  ain't  conscience- 
free  about  that  business  I've  had  my  suspicions  a  long  time 
that  I  spoke  a  leetlc  too  much  in  your  favor;  and  what  I  heard 
last  night  —  and  what  I  seed  —  makes  me  dub'ous  that  you've 
been  a  sort  o'  snake  in  the  grass.  I  doubt  your  convarsion, 
Isaac  Muggs;  but  before  I  tell  you  my  mind  about  the  business, 
I'd  ju-t  like  to  hear  from  your  own  lips  what  you  think  about 
our  argyment,  and  what  you  riMin-mbi-r.  and  what  you  be 
lieve." 

The  landlord  looked  utterly  bewildered.  If  was  evident  that 
he  had  never  devoted  much  time  to  metaphysics;  and  the  con 
fusion  and  disorder  of  the  few  words  which  he  e^pl-yed  in  an 
swer,  and  the  utter  consternation  ,,f  j,js  l,,(,ks.  amply  assured  the 


\  I  \\     l-i:i\«  JIM  ES    DISCUSSED    i:v    01  l»     I. 
inflexible  >cout    that   the   labor  of   conversion  must    ' 

ppin. 

"  I  sc  that   you're  in  a  mi-hty  had  li.\.   ami 

-tion  with  me  whether  I  ought  raly  to  gi\-«.  you  a  helping  hand  to 
git  out  of  it.      Kf  I  thought  you  wanted  to  git  at  the  truth  —  " 
•'  \\  ell,  Supple,  as  Qod'i  my  judge,  I  >aitinly  di 
•'  I'd  go  over  the  argyinent  agin  for  your  Bftke,    bui 
•  I'd  thank  y..ii  mightily,  Supple." 

"  liut  'twon't  do  to  go  On  forgdiing.  MugL-.     The  thing  is  to  lie 
i,  :.nd  if  it's  once  onder-iood,  it'-  to  be  believed  ;  and  when 
v«'U  ,  lieve.  th.  •  after  that.     Then 

Ing  you're  a  tory  with  lories,  and  a  whig  with  whi 
needful.     The  time's  come  for  every  tub  to  -land  on  its  o\\ : 
and  them  that  don't  must  have  n  turn—  inside  out  :     Now,  ther. 
axing  you  to  fight  for  us,    Muggs  —  that's  out  of  imtur'-  and   I'm 
thinking  we  have  more  men  now  than  we  can  feed  ;  but  we  want  the 
truth  in  your  soul,  and  we  want  you  to  stick  to  it.     Kf  you're  i 
for  that,  and   ralv  willing,  I'll  put  it  to  you  in  plain  arguments  that 
you  can't  mi  —  .  OOleafl  you  want  to  mix-,  'em  ;  and  you'll  ne< 
from  'em,  if  you  have  only  half  a  good->i/ed  man's  soul  in  you  I 
upon,      i  ^  now,  whether  you'd  like  to  know  —  " 

Tin  landlord  cut  slmrt  the  speaker  by  der -larini:  \i\<  an\ie'\    |..  be 
and  Supph  Jack  ro0C  to  his  i.-i-k    with   all   the  calm 
delib«-ration   of  a   practised    lecturer.     Coiling    up    a    huge  quid    of 
tobacco  in  one  jaw,  to  nrevent   it-  interfering  with   the  argument,  he 
went  to  the  door. 

•'  I'll  jevt  go  out  for  a  bit  and  hitch  '  Mossfoot.  "'  —  the  luim. 

1  upon  his  pony,  a-  .       •  d   Imnter  has  a  tend,  r  diminutive 

for  the  II.TM.  he  rid.-  a;:d  the  gun  he  |ho  •'  I!!  OB^j  gQ  and  hitch 

Dip,  and  out  of  hani:  r  a  spell, 

and  then  be  ba<  k.      If-  a  thre,-  mini;:.  -    b>i-iiirss  only." 

Ib     was  not  lomr  gone,   but.  during  that    time,  rapid  transition^ 
ot    thought    and    purple    were    pa—im:    through  the  mind    of 
.n    landlord.     Cin  •, 


THE   SO      i 

the   force   of.  many  of  th>v  ;nients.      The 

so!    ho    had  given  to   Kd-.vard    M  Tighiatod  in  a 

viction    tliat   the  1'ritish    cause   v,  d<>\vn — that    i\\f\ 

whigs  wore   gaining   ground    u])on   the    torios   with    every  day's 
movement,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  tor   the   latter   much 

r!-r  to  maintain  themselves.     The  policy  of  the  publican 
ally  goes  with  that   of  the   rising  party,  r   genorallv  a 

bad  political  thermometer,  and  Mugi;-  v  as  a  really  good  . 
Besides,  he  ha.-'  !  eei  stung  by  the  contemptuous  rejection  o\ 
counsel  by  the  chief  whom  he  was  conscious  of  having  <• 

•Ifishly,  and  alarmed  by  tbe  threats  which   had   followed    b> 
•incalled-1'ur  counsel. 

The  nccet  nfinning  his  friends  among  tlie  smv 

n-ht-l.s  ^;rew  sinuubirly  obvioufl  to  hi*  intellert,  if  it  had  not  b;>eK 
so  before,  in  the  brief  absence  of  the  SCOUT  :  and  wlien  he  iv- 
turued,  the  rajudly  (juickenin^  intelligence  of  the  worthy  land 
lord  made  the  eyes  <»f  the  former  brighten  with  the  satisfaction 
which  a  teacher  must  naturally  feel  at  the  wonderful  pro;, 
and  ready  recognition  of  his  doctrines. 

These,  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  ns  entirely,  or  even  i.. 
part,  to  follow.  The  worthy  woodman  has  aheady  g'iven  us  ft 
Mifiicient  sample  of  the  sort  of  philosophy  in  which  he  dealt  ; 
and  farther  argument  on  the  tyranny  of  forcing  il  stamped  tea" 
down  the  people's  throats,  "  wiH  they,  nil!  they,''  may  surely 
be  dispensed  with.  Hut,  flattering  as  his  success  appeared  to 
'  first.  Supple  .lack  was  soon  annoyed  by  some  doubts  and 
'.litliculties  which  his  convert  suggested  in  the  progress  of  the 
M'vnt.  Like  too  manv  of  his  neighbors.  Isaac  Muggs  was 
largely  endowed  with  the  combative  quality  «'f  st-lf-esteein. 
This,  as  the  discM^ion  advanced,  w.is  graded  into  exei 
iind  his  fears  and  his  policy  w«-re  e(|iially  forgotten  in  the  d. 

resent  triumph.      A  spivr.tien    of  the   manner  in  which   their 
leliberations   wanned    into    controversy    may    be    passingly    MI- 

•••I. 

"  Jt's  agin  natur*  and  reason,  and  a  man's  own  seven  senses," 

Supple  .lack,  "  t<>  reclcon  on  any  man's  right    to  make  IHWS 

for  another,  when    he    don't    live    in  the  same  country  with  him. 

v,  King  George,  living    in    England,   never   had    a    light   to 


m 


make  John  Bannister,  living  on  :!.e  ( 
tea  or  anvthi: 

"Hut    it's   all    the  same   country,  Kn^rland  and  America,  Jack 


"Jimini!  —  if  that's  the  h<>w,  what    makes  ymi   give,  'em    dif 

ram-  -    !  want  to  kii"\ 

"Ob,  that  was   only  1  &CaUB€  i.  ?:ap]»en'-d    so,"  said    the    la:.  1 
l,  doubtfully. 
•'  ^"  y  Ceor^e  the  Th' 

Tiiat's  the  word  fi.r  -iK  ;    and  it's  j;.).>d  reason  whv 
1  si.  -.y  him,  wlK-ii    for  ;t!:  his  trvln^,  he  can't  make  inc. 

HIM.  :.:iiiient  after  ri^iimMit  —  ami  tin: 

snt,  and   the   princi-  of  Wales  his  ri^iment 

—  i  the  priiice's  liniment  all  to  flimlr. 

Han  kl  —  Td!.  then,  there  Royal  Scotch 

..nd    the.    Dutch    II-  —  I    >!!].]• 

didn't    call    t!..  one    they  couldn't    ax    in    Knjrlish  for 

•vhat  tin-;.  :  —  well,  what  was  the  i:  .....  1  of'  it  I  —  all  th.-^e 

Mn't    make    j  .....  r  Jack   Hannister.  a  < 
•i,  difnk  stamjied  t.  .     Pl'he  :  '. 

!.  and  a  hundred  nimv.  like  last  autumn's 

(i'"}'  '.v  h'-htin^  tl,  :i    now,  north 

to  -peak  .-f,  i.,  American  horn  'gainst  An.. 

-and  cutt:  «,,    iiH    the    j.ocke: 

••f    the    iiLrlie>t    old    men  —  !  .v.  —  that    ever    1 

•      It    spiles    •  .  they  put  his 

lace  •    Mnir^s,    I    v        '  '<    '      ' 

llor.  I'd 

.1  y«.u  'twixt   my  le-rs  in    ti;;  v«  u 

through—  b 

:,  hut   it1- 
whrie  to  Link  for  it.     You  §j  ding    I    ,.lV  \\i;h 

k.      N-.JV.  ,  Tin 

.  to  an>\\. 

I'h',  1'Ut  ;.  •  \    man  o 

•    '    8  im 
Dm*'.  ,  j.j, 


1  1  J  TMK   SCOUT, 

fortune.     "  I'm    sure   I've  tried  my  lest  to  see  the  right  nnil  th» 

:i.      I've  beam  what  you  had  to  say " 

"Only  to  gi*  somo  d — d  crooked  answer  ready,  that  had  jist 
as  much  to  do  with  the  matter  as  my  great  graud-d.- lighter  lias 
You  hearn  me,  but  it  wa'n't  to  p.ee  if  the  tmtli  w;:-  in  me  ;  i' 
only  to  see  if  you  couldn't  say  something  after  me  thai 
would  swallow  up  my  saying.  I  don't  see  how  you're  eve;  |. 
get  wisdom,  with  such  an  understanding,  unless  it's  linked  |nt  - 

''•y  main  force  of  tooth  and  timber." 

44  I  could  ha'  fnu't  yu  oiice  John  Bannister,  though  von  nr.> 
named  Supple  Jack,"  replied  the  landlord  with  a:i  ;>ir  of  indig 
nant  reproach,  which,  in  his  own  Self-absorption,  reaped  the 
notice  of  the  scout. 

"  It's  no  had  notion  ///^/,"  he  continued,  \vitlumt  heeding  tho 
language  of  the-  landlord.  "Mnny's  the  time,  boy  an  1  nnn,  I 
have  fnu't  with  a  fellow  when  we  couldn't  find  out  the  ri^ht  of  it, 
any  »vay  ;  and,  as  sure  as  a  gun,  if  I  wan't  right  I  win  :-a:tain 
to  be  licked.  "Besides,  Isaac  Mnjrgs,  it  nsen  to  be  an  old  haw, 
when  they  couldn't  get  at  the  truth  any  other  way,  to  make  a 
battle,  «\:id  cry  on  God's  mercy  to  help  the  cause  that  was  right. 
By  Jimini,  I  don't  see  i:«>  other  way  for  i-s.  I've  given  you  all 
the  reason  I  know  on  this  subject --all  that  I  can  onderstaml  I 
mean  —  for  to  confess  a  truth,  there's  a-many  reasons  for  i-ru 
liberties  that  1  hear  spoken,  and  1  not  able  to  make,  out  the 
sense  of  one  of  them.  Imt  all  that  I  know  I've  told  you.  and 
there's  more  than  enough  to  make  me  sartin  of  the  side  1  take 
Now,  as  you  ain'l  satisfied  with  any  of  my  reasons,  J  don't 
how  we're  to  finish  the  business  onless  we  go  li.-u-k  to  the  old- 
lav,-,  and  strip  to  the  hiiiV  for  a  fight.  You  used  to  br." 
M'lf,  and  you  know  what  I  an:,  so  there's  no  use  to  ax  about 
,;nd  weight.  If  you  speak  agreeabl"  to  yon  -nca 

and  want  nothing  better  than  the  truth,  then.   !  ;t   a 

r  light  Avill  give  it  to  us;    for.  as    1    tidd   yu    afore,  I  nevei 
iid    light    on    the  wrong   side,  that    I    didn't  oMi.e  up  ondei 
most." 

The  scout,  in  the  earnestness  with  which  he  ei:V;  :;ilned  and 
expressed  his  own  views  and  wishes,  did  not  sufVer  himself  to 
perceive  some  of  tin-  o!>>t;ieles  which  lav  in  the  way  of  a  trans- 


NEW   IT)-.  .,   i;^    OLD   LAWS.  11. ". 

\     he    KO    d<  Ht« 

.1  atteni]  • 

.-Is  for  a  project,  t«»  which  :  ',  ncy  of  a 

limh,  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  disputants,  seemed   to   suu^' 
most    conclusive   objection.       When,   at    length,   he    caiae    to   a 
pause,  the  landlord  repeated  his  former  reproachful  reminiscence 
of  a   period  when   the   challenge  of  the   scout   would   not    have 

unans-wered  l.y  defiance. 

"  I'nt  n«'\v  !"  and  he  lifted  the  stump  of  his  remaining  arm,  in 
melancholy  answer. 

-It's  -A  ell  for  yon  to  talk  big,  John  Bannister;  I  know 
you're  a  strong  man,  and  a  spry.  You  wa'n't  c 
.Jack  for  nothing.  But  there  was  a  time  when  Isaac  Muggs 
wouldn't  ha'  stopped  to  measure  inches  with  you  in  a  fair  up  and 
down,  hip  and  hip,  hug  together.  I  could  ha'  thrown  you  once, 
I'm  certain.  But  what's  the  chance  now  with  my  one  arm,  in 
a  hug  with  a  man  that's  got  two?  It's  true,  an.!  I  helievc  it, 
that  God  gives  strength  in  a  good  cause;  but  it's  quite  onrea- 
:  H  me  to  hope  for  any  help,  seeing  as  how  I  can't  help 
myself,  no  how.  I  couldn't  even  come  to  the  grip,  ho\\, 
much  1  wanted  to." 

-urc  enough,  Mtiggs,  and  I  didn't  think  of  that,  at  all.     It 
was  so  natural   to   think   that  a  man  that  let  his  tongu> 

as  yonr'n  had   two   arms  at    least   to    hack    it.      I'm  m:  . 
sorry.  Hogg*,  that  JOB  ain't,  for  /  j  disapp'intm. 

ten  with  all  the  chagrin  of  a  man  w'. 
comfited  in  his  very  last  hope  of  triumph. 

"Well,  you   WC  1  linV  said   the  other,  sulkily;   "so  there's 
UO  more  to  |,e  said  ahout  it." 

••  fee;    hut    you   nin't   come  to  a  ri-ht  mind  yit.      It's  d'ar  to 

Mngjrs,  that  one  thiiu  ,T  must  1  . 

must    cut    IOUM-    fioin    the    lilac!. 

knows  tl,,  ,  much  tell 

what's  the  re.k  of  the  other.    Now,  ti  hits  mo 

and  it's  one  that  conies  nateral   enough  to  a  man  I 

his  time,  in  a  hundred  dim-rent  UTAjn.     One  of 

I    had    to   deal  with    a    fellow    t!  [»M   l,,.liinil    i. 

strength    that    he   couhln't    match    me  as  we  stood,  was  to  t 

7 


146  niK  sroui. 


hand  behind  my  hark,  or  a  It1--  to  a  pine  sapling,  and  make  my 
self,  as  it  wor,  a  lame    man  till   the    light  was  over.      Now,  !«•"!. 
yon,  Mugg>.  if  it's  the  tmth  your  really  after,  1  don't  care  much 
it'  I  try  that    old-fashion  wyy  with   you.      I'm  willing  to  buckle 
my  right  arm  to  my  hack." 

"  Swonnds,  Supple,  how  yon  talk!  Come,  take  a  drink." 
•'I'll  drink  when  the  time  comes,  Isaac  Muggs,  and  when  ir'j. 
needful;  but  jest  no\v.  when  it's  the  truth  I'm  after,  I  don't  suf 
fer  no  divarsions.  I  stick  as  close  to  it,  I  tell  you,  as  1  does  to 
my  inimy.  I  don't  stop  to  drink  or  rest  till  it's  a-lying  fair  be 
fore  me.  Now,  it's  needful  for  your  sake,  Muggs,  that  you  c 
to  a  right  sense  of  the  reason  in  this  business.  It's  needful  that 
you  give  up  Black  Uiders,  lories,  British,  Ned  Con  way,  ugly 
faces,  and  the  old  sarpent.  My  conscience  is  mightily  troubled 
becaise  I  stood  for  you,  and  it's  needful  that  you  come  to  a  right 
onderstanding  afore  1  leave  you.  J've  sworn  it,  Isaac  Mi; 
by  Tolly  Longlips,  as  we  rode  along  together,  and  Mossfoot 
ked  ii])  his  ears  as  if  he  understood  it  all,  and  was  a  witness 
for  us  both.  Now,  you  know  what  an  oath  by  Polly  Longlips 
means,  Isaac.  It  means  death  to  the  inimy  —  sartin  death,  at 
any  reasonable,  distance.  I  don't  want  your  life,  mair;  —  by  the 
hokey,  1  don't;  —  and  that's  why  1  want  to  put  the  reason  h» 
yon,  so  that  you  might  say  to  me  at  one*;  that  you're  done  with. 
these  black  varmints,  for  over.  Thev  can  do  you  no  good  — 
they  can't  help  you  much  longer;  and  the  time's  a-coming,  1 
Muggs,  when  the  \\higs  will  sweep  this  country,  along  the  WaU,- 
ree,  and  the  (.longaree,  and  Santee,  with  a  broom  of  fire,  and  wo 
to  the  skunk,  when  that  time  comes,  that  can't  get  clear  of  the 
brush  —  wo  to  the  'coon  that's  caught  sticking  in  his  hollow! 
There's  no  reason  yi-ii  shouldn't  onderstand  the  liberty-cans^, 
and  there's  every  reason  why  you  should.  Hut  as  you  can't 
onderstand  my  argyment  -  " 

"  Well,  but  Supple,  you're  always  in  such  a  hurry  !  —  " 
"  No  hurry  —  never  hurried  a  man  in  argyment  in  all  my  1L'  ,  r 
but  when  Ue'fl  BO  ta:nal  slow  to  understand  —  " 

"That'll   it,  Supple,   I'm  a  slow  man;    but    I    begin    to  R 

6  of  \\hat  you 
44  Well,  that'*  M.mcthlng  like.  Mnggs;    hut   ;«  good  gripe  ;«1     -it 


1 1. 

the   :  ill  tug  UJi....  :iic  li 

-'.it.  will   !.«•  a  1 

.ding  ti>  ;«  quicker  m< 

It'll    J.llt    your   slow   ji;u  •  'I'." 

'•  IMio,  Suji]  l(  in   thinking  that  there's 

anything  in  t! 

,'t   I.  then  !      By  gum.  you  don't  know  it;. 
if  you  think  .:  y.      Now,  what1  :  he  truth  from 

;ig  out  in  a  fair  tug  heiueen  us/  Here  \\  e  stand,  hoth  tall 
men,  most  like  in  height  and  hreadth.  ni-h  alike  in  strength  l.y 
ni'.vt  |u-o],lp*s  eonnt  ;  ahout  the  same  age.  and  jiretty  mueh  tlte 
same  exjiei  ience.  \Ve'\e  had  our  tugs  and  tears,  hoth  of'; 

v  way;    tlmugh,  t  •  _ot  the  woi>t  of  it, 

tiuut    the   am  1   tie  ii{>  mine.  th« 

N«'U  -I)    the   hanks  nf  the  A'. 

ho(!\  hut  the  g  '  all.  that    g 

He'.-  .  i:id    thar. 

J  u  l.ar,  .".mi    1  i 
all  that.  . 
win  .  .,1    all.      There's  a 

qnesJ 

looking   no    little 

•::t  ;    and   tl  ,T  of 

tin  old  faith,  ]  with  accustomed  voluhility  :  — 

"  \Yell,  then,   lu-i-e.   a>    \\  ••  ;  all    ujmr 

him   how  we    stand.      'I'hoii-h,  T  he   knows  all. 

telling  wouldn't    1  i-    Bud  ;i  ;  M   mind  - 

iiim.      I  say  to   him.  II  — it  aiif: 

im-nt,  ami  ui.h- 

H  matter  of  life  aad  death  (<•  him;  — ;  .nut 

the   oath    I    tuk  on   I'-tlly  I.onglij^.      He 
.ful  to  make    i  sign  which  '11 
• 

v\e    |..;.y  Mir!     \  •   u    UlUSt     i.  J '11 

I'm    right,  \\liy    \     u'ii    k;.-\vit    5ni^!  1  I'll 

•  ;  hut  if  I'm  wrong,  the 


148  TIII-:  SCOUT. 

and    I'll   make   the   confession,  though    it'll   lie   a  might)  bittei 

ueedresMty,  I  tell  you.      But  I  ain't  afcanl.     I'msartin  that  my 

.  merit    for   our   rights    is  a  true   argyment,  and    I'll   say  my 

prayers  with  that   sort  of  sartinty,  that    it  would  do  your  heart 

if  you  could  only  feel  about  the  same  time." 

"If  I  thought  you  was  serious,  Jack  Bannister;  but  I'm 
jub'ous  about  it." 

"  Pon't  be  jub'ous.  I'm  ser'ous  as  a  sarpent.  I  b'lieve  in 
God  —  I  b'lieve  he'll  justify  the  truth,  whenever  we  axes  him  in 
airnest  for  it!  My  old  mother  —  God  rest  her  bones  and  bless 
her  spcrrit !  —  she's  told  me  of  more  than  twenty  people  that's 
tried  a  wrestle  for  the  truth.  There  was  one  man  in  partic'lar 
that  she.  knows  in  Georgia  :  his  name  was  Bostick.  He  used  to 
!>••  a  drummer  in  General  Oglethorpe's  Highland  regiment. 
Well,  another  mar.,  a  sodger  in  the  same  regiment,  made  an 
accusation  agin  Bostick  for  stealing  a  watch-coat,  and  the  sar- 
p.umstances  went  mighty  strong  agin  Bostick.  But  he  stood  it 
out;  and  though  he  never  shot  a  rifle  in  his  life  before,  he 
staked  the  truth  and  his  honesty  on  a  shot;  and,  by  the  hokey, 
though,  as  I  tell  you.  he  never  lifted  rifle  to  his  sight  before,  he 
put  the  bullet  clean  through  the  mouth  and  jaw  of  the  sodger. 
and  cut  off  a  small  slice  of  his  tongue,  which  was,  perhaps,  as 
good  a  judgment  agin  a  man  for  false  swearing  as  a  rifle-shot 
could  make.  Well,  'twa'n't  a  month  after  that  when  they  found 
\t  was  an  Ingin  that  had  stole  the  coat,  and  so  Bostick  was 
mown  to  be  an  honest  man,  by  God's  blessing,  in  every  way." 

There  was  something  so  conclusive  on  the  subject  in  this,  and 
one  or  two  similar  anecdotes,  which  Supple  Jack  told,  and  which, 
having  heard  them  from  true  believers  in  his  youth,  had  led  to 
liis  own  adoption  of  the  experiment,  that  the  landlord,  Muggs, 
tO'ered  no  further  doubts  or  objections.  The  earnestness  of  his 
companion  became  contagious,  and,  with  far  less  enthusiasm  of 
<:haracter,  he  was  probably  not  unwilling — in  order  to  the 
oroper  adoption  of  a  feeling  which  was  growing  momently  in 
C-tvor  in  his  eyes  —  to  resort  to  the  wager  of  battle  as  an  easy 
mode  of  making  a  more  formal  declaration  in  behalf  of  the  domi- 
•iant  faction  of  the  state.  The  novelty  of  the  suggestion  had  its 
recommendation  also-  and  but  lew  words  more,  were  wanted 


THK  TRIAL   I'".:  TIIK  TUITH.  149 

1)0 fore  the  two  went  forth  to  a  pleasant  and  shady  grass-plot, 
which  lav  some  two  hundred  yards  further  in  the  hollow  of  the 
I,  in  order  that  the  tot  so  solemnly  recommended,  on  such 
high  authority,  should  he  fairly  made  in  the  presence  of  that 
High  Judge  only,  whose  arbitrament,  without  intending  any 
irrevert -nee,  was  so  earnestly  invoked  by  the  simple  woodman 
of  Congaree 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THK    TRIAL    FOR    THK    TRUTH. 

NI»  change  could  have  been  suddenly  greater  than  that  which 
produced  upon  the  countenance  and  conduct  of  John  Ban- 
niMer,  when  he  found  himself  successful  in  bringing  the  landlord 
to  the  dr.-ired  is>ue.  His  seriousness  was  all  discarded,  —  his 
intei!>e  cai  nr>tne>s  of  air  and  tone,  and  a  manner  even  playful 
and  sportive,  succeeded  to  that  which  had  been  so  stern  and 
sombre.  He  congratulated  Muggs  and  himself,  equally,  on  the 
stroll--  probability,  so  near  at  hand,  of  arriving  at  the  truth  by  a 

and  proceeded   to  make  his  arrangement 

the  (  onllict  with  all  the  buoyancy  of  a  boy  traversing  the  play- 
ground  with  "leap-frog"  and  "hop  o'  my  thumb." 

landlord  did  not  betray  the  same  degree  of  eagerness, 

but  he  was  not  backward.      Ho  might  have  had  his  doubts  about 

.  lor    Supple   Jack    had    a   lame   in   those   days   which 

>piead  far  and  wide  along  the  three  contiguous  rivers.     Wher- 

.1  pole-boat  hail  made  its  way,  there  had  the  name  of  Jack 

Bannister    found   repeated    echoes.      But    Muggs  was  a  fearless 

man,  and   he   had,  .  I  very    toll-ruble   degree  of  self-asHi- 

rance,  which  led  him  to  form  his  own  expectations  and  hopes  of 

If  ho  had   any  scruples  at   all,  they  arose  rather  from 

his   doubt,  whether   tin-    proposed    te*t  of   truth  would   bo  a  fair 

one  —  a  doubt  which   M-emcd  very  fairlv  overcome   in   his  mind, 

us  indeed  it  should  be  in  that  of  the  reader,  if  full  justice  in  don« 


150  THE   SCOUT. 

to  tlio  final  argument  which  the  scout  addressed  to  his  adversary 
on  this  subject 

"  There  never  was  a  quarrel  and  a  fight  yet  that  didn't  come 
out  of  a  wish  to  Tarn  or  to  teach  the  truth  What's  King 
George  a-fighting  us  for  this  very  moment  ?  Why,  to  make  us 
b'licve  in  him.  If  he  licks  us,  why  we'll  believe  in  him  ;  and 
if  wo  licks  him,  'gad,  I'm  thinking  he'll  have  to  b'lieve  in  ne, 
Aiut  that  cl'ar,  Mnggs  ?  So,  let's  fall  to  — if  I  licks  you,  I 
reckon  ynu'll  know  where  to  look  for  the  truth  for  ever  after; 
for  I'll  measure  your  back  on  it,  and  your  breast  under  it,  and 
you'll  fed  it  in  all  your  bones." 

Thf  £r™ii)d  was  chosen  —  a  pleasant  area  beneath  a  shadow- 
fii^r  giove  of  oaks,  covered  with  a  soft  greenward,  which  seemed 
to  lessen,  in  the  minds  of  the  combatants,  the  dangers  of  discom 
fiture.  But  when  the  parties  began  to  strip  for  the  conflict,  a 
little  difficulty  suggested  itself  which  had  not  before  disturbed 
the  thoughts  of  either.  How  was  the  superfluous  arm  of 
Supple  Jack  to  be  tied  up?  Muggs  could  evidently  perform 
no  such  friendly  office;  but  a  brief  pause  given  to  their  opera 
tions  enabled  the  scout  to  arrange  it  easily.  A  running  noose 
was  made  in  the  rope,  into  which  he  thrust  the  unnecessary 
m.'inber,  then  gave  the  end  of  the  line  to  his  opponent,  who 
contrived  to  draw  it  around  his  body,  and  bind  the  arm  securely 
in  his  side  —  an  operation  easily  understood  by  all  schoolboys 
who  have  ever  been  compelled  to  exercise  their  wits  in  securing 
a  balance  of  power,  in  a  like  way,  among  ambitious  rivals. 

As  they  stood,  front  to  front  opposed,  the  broad  chest,  square 
shoulders,  voluminous  muscle,  and  manly  compass  of  the  two, 
naturally  secured  their  mutual  admiration.  Supple  Jack  could 
not  refrain  from  expressing  his  satisfaction. 

"  It's  a  pleasure,  Isaac  Muggs,  to  have  a  turn  with  a  man  of 
your  make.  I  ha'n't  seen  a  finer  buxxum  for  a  fight  this  many 
a  day.  I  think,  ef  anything,  you're,  a  splinter  or  two  fuller 
across  the  breast  than  me;  —  it  may  be  fat,  and  ef  so,  it's  the 
,*e  for  you;  but  ef  it's  the  solid  grain  and  gristle,  then  it's 
01, ly  the  worse  for  me.  It  makes  me  saddish  enough  when  J 
look  on  sich  a  buxxuin  as  yourn,  to  think  that  youre  cut  off 
M.e  half  in  a  fair  allowance  of  arm.  But .  1  don't  think  that'U 


THE    TKi  PH.  1  ",1 

work  agin  you  in  .-,-,.   ,1S(.(1   to  ,lM'm,, 

without   it,  and   inakii,_  ;  l'n, 

•1  u  if  I  wam't  of  Q<  ,11   in  tlie 

part  of  my  body.     Let's  feel  o'  your  heft,  old  fellow." 

A  mutual   lift  .ken,  they   prepared   to    take    hold    for 

'.  trial ;    and  Supple  Jack  soon  discovered,  as  he  had 

:,  that   the  customary  disuse  of  the  arm   gave   to  his 

opponent  an  advantage  in  this  sort  of  conflict,  which,  taken   in 

connection  with    his    naturally  strong   build   of  frame,  rendered 

the  i  re  him  equally  serious  and   doubtful.      But,  with   a 

shake  of  the  head  as  i  his  acknowledgment,  he  laid  his 

chin    on    the    shoulder  of  the  landlord,  grasped    him  vigoroii-.lv 

about  the   hotly;    and   Muggs,  having   secured    a   similar   grasp, 

him  the  word,  and  they  both  swung  round,  under  a  mutual 

impulse,  which,  had    there    been  any  curious   spectator  at   hand, 

would   have  left  him  very  doubtful,  for   a  long   time,  as   to   the 

.ct    proprietorship    of   the    several    legs    which    so    rapidly 

•ii  other  in  the  air. 

amateur   in   such   matters  —  a  professional   lover  of  the 

—  would  make  a  ravishing  picture  of  this  conflict.     The 

•niug  success  —  the  hopes,  the  fears,  the  occa- 

tfl  of  the 

oilier  —  the   horizontal  tendency  of  this  or  that  head  and   slioul- 
—  the  yielding  of  this  frame  and  the  staggering  of  that  Irg, 

t,  under   the    pencil  of  a  master,  he    made   to    awake: 
many  lenabilltiefl  in  the  spectator  as  did   ever  tin-  adroii  fOg 
I    Sheppard.      Hut  rails  mn>: 

of  their  own  — to  the    Cniikshank.M-v  .'  __,.,-   that 
more    popular,   if    less    worthy    fraternity,  the    "  Quix,   ••  1': 
Tix,"    cVr.,  trihe    of  artists    in    How 

:1   './//  unmrt;  and    con- 
-hall    find   its   representation  in  ugli; 

^'»'    have    i:.-!thrr  the    :  tlie    tah-nts  whic!.  Iful 

and   shall   not  .int- 

:o   supply  our  delir  ,,iu- 

I'ntat/  _led  with 

wa«   pleased    to    asMire    him;    and  tl.  he 


152  THE   SCOUT. 

himself  was  a  tough  colt,  not  easy  to  be  put  upon  four  logs, 
when  his  natural  rights  demanded  only  two.  The  conflict  was 
protracted  till  both  parties  were  covered  with  perspiration.  The 
turf,  forming  a  ring  of  twenty  feet  round  or  more,  was  beaten 
smooth,  and  still  the  affair  was  undecided.  Neither  had  yet 
received  a  fall.  But  Supple  Jack,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  began 
to  feel  that  the  argument  was  about  to  be  settled  in  favor  of 
right  principles. 

"  Your  breath's  coming  rether  quick  now,  Isaac  Mtiggs  —  I'm 
thinking  you'll  soon  be  convarted  !  But  it's  a  mighty  strong 
devil  you  had  in  you,  and  I'm  afeard  he'll  make  my  ribs  ache 
for  a  week.  I'll  sprawl  him,  though,  I  warrant  you. 

"  Don't  be  too  sartin,  Jack,"  gasped  the  other. 

"Don't!  —  Why,  love  you,  Muggs,  you  couldn't  say  that 
Khort  speech  over  again  for  the  life  of  you." 

"  Couldn't  eh  !" 

"  No,  not  for  King  George's  axing." 

"  Think  so,  eh  ?" 

"  Know  so,  man.  Now,  look  to  it.  I'll  only  ax  three  tugs 
more.  There — there's  one." 

"  Nothing  done,  Jack." 

"  Two  —  three  !  and  where  are  you  now  ?"  cried  the  exulting 
scout,  as  he  deprived  his  opponent  of  grasp  and  footing  at  the 
same  moment,  and  whirled  him,  dizzy  and  staggering,  heels  up 
and  liead  to  the  earth. 

But  he  was  not  suffered  to  reach  it  by  that  operation  only. 
His  course  was  accelerated  by  other  hands  ;  and  three  men, 
rushing  with  whoop  and  halloo  from  the  copse  near  which  the 
struggle  had  been  carried  on,  grappled  with  the  fallen  landlord, 
and  plied  him  with  a  succession  of  blows,  the  least  of  which  was 
unnecessary  for  his  overthrow. 

It  seemed  that  Supple  Jack  recognised  these  intruders  almost 
in  the  moment  of  their  appearance  ;  but  so  sudden  was  their 
onset,  and  so  great  their  clamor,  that  his  fierce  cry  to  arrest 
them  was  unheard,  and  he  could  only  make  his  wishes  known 
by  adopting  the  summary  process  of  knocking  two  of  them 
down,  by  successive  blows  from  the  only  fist  which  was  left  free 
foi  exercise 


THK  TRIAL   FOB    I  in:  THl'TH. 

"How  n<>w!      Who   a\M   you   («.    j.ut    your  dirty  lingers   into 
my   dish,   ( )lin    Ma>M-v  ?    or    you.  Uoh    ,J»nes  !    •>?  you,  1'ayton 

\  our  liravery,  is   it,  t<>   beat    a  man  afti-r 
iM  him,  »ih  .'" 

:  we  didn't  know  that  'twas  over,  Seargcant.  We  though: 
jou  was  a-wanting  help,"  replied  tlie  fellow  who  was  called 
—  it  would  seem  in  mockery  only.  Ho,  was  a  litil.-. 
dried-up,  withered  atomy —  a  jaundiced  "  sand-lapper,"  or  "  i 
eater,"  iVoiu  the  Was.viniasaw  country  —  whose  insignificant  size 
and  mean  appearance  did  very  inadequate  justice  to  his  resolute, 

.  and  implacaltle  character. 

••  And  if  I  was  a-wanting   help,  was  yon  the  man  to  give  me 
(Jo  'Ion--,  (  >li'i  Ma^scy — yon'rc  a  very  young  chap  to  be 
here.      What  makes  you  here,  1  want  to  know?" 

"  Why,  didn't  you  send  us  on  the  scout,  jist  here,  in  this  very 
place  /"  said  the  puny  but  pugnacious  person  addressed,  with  a 
and  gestuie,  and  a  lire  in   his  eye,  which  the 
trcMi'm->s  of  his  form  did  not  in  the  least  seem  to  warrant. 

:ie  ;   hut  why  didn't  you  come  ?     I've  been  here 

"f  two    hours   by  the  sun;   and   as   you  didn't  come,  1 

reckoned  you  had  taken  track  after  some  tory  varmints,  and  had 

•  deeper  into  the  swamp.      You've  dodged  some  tories,  eh  ?" 

••  No,  ha'n't  Been  a  S"iil." 

"  Then,  by  the   hokey,  Olin    Ma-^ey,  you've  been  squat  on  a 

1  >ledge  for  penni' 
•ing   party  looked  down  in  silence.     The  little  man 

.a.-aw  felt  his  anger  subside  within  him. 
i><>ral  M  them  painted  darlings  out  of  your 

jnickets,  IM •!'>]•(•  they're  the  death  of  you.      Hy  old  natur,  betwixt 
cards  and  nil;  '  more  of  my  men  than  by  Cunningh. 

bulh  leton's    broadswords.      (Jive   me    them   cards,  Olin 

..nd  make  your  resjiects  to  my  good  natur.  that  I  don't 
blow  you  to  the  coloiud." 

Ilr  drew  from  his  pocket,  in  sileiue,  ;\ 

I  of  the  dirtie>t  cards    that    ever  were   thumbed    over  a  p'nu- 
and  delivered  them  to  his  superior  with  the  air  of  a  M-Iu'ol- 
from    whom    the    master    had    cruelly    taken,  "  at   one    felJ 
«woop,"  tt>p,  marbles,  and  ball. 


161  rin:  SCOUT. 

"There,"  said  Supple  Jack,  as  lie  tlir'ist  tliein  into  his  pocket 
— "  I'll  put  them  up  safely,  boys,  and  you  shall  have  'em  ag'in 
for  a  whole   night  —  alter  our   next   brush  with  the  tories.     Go 
you  now  and  git  your  nags  in  readiness,  while  I  see  to  M-; 
I'll  jine  you  directly  at  the  red  clay." 

When  they  had  disappeared,  lie  turned  to  the  landlord,  \rhc 
had  meanwhile  risen,  though   rather  slowly,  from  the  earth, 
now  stood  a  silent  spectator  of  the  interview. 

"  Now,  Muggs,  1  reckon  we'll  have  to  try  the  tug  over  agin. 
These  blind  boys  of  mine  put  in  jest  a  moment  too  soon.  They 
helped  to  flatten  you,  I'm  thinking ;  and  so,  if  you  ain't 
quite  satisfied  which  way  the  truth  is,  it's  easy  to  go  it  over 
agin." 

The  oiler  was  more  liberal  than  Muggs  expected  or  desired 
lie  was  already  sufficiently  convinced. 

"No,  no,  Supple  ;   you're  too  much  for  mo  !" 

"  It's  the  truth  that's  too  much  for  you,  Muggs  —  not  me  !  ' 
reckon  you're  satisfied  now  which  way  the  truth  is.  You've  ^o*. 
a  right  onderstanding  in  this  business." 

The  landlord  made  some  admissions,  the  amount  of  which 
taken  without  circumlocution,  was,  that  he  had  been  whipped  i)> 
a  fair  light ;  and,  according  to  all  the  laws  of  war,  as  well  as 
common  sense,  that  he  was  now  at  the  disposal  of  the  victor 
His  acknowledgments  were  sufficiently  satisfactory. 

"We've    prayed  for  it,  Muggs,  and  je.-t  as  ire  prayed  we  go* 
it.     You're  rubbing  your  legs  and  your  sides,  but  what's  a  hruis- 
and  a  pain  in  the  side,  or  even  a  broken  rib,  when  we've  got  the 
truth]     After   that,  a   hurt  of  the  body  is  a  small   matter;   and 
then  a  man  don't  much  fear  any  sort  of  danger.      Let  me  kimv. 
that  I'm   in  the  right  way,  and  tha-t  ju.^tice  is  on  my  side,  and  I 
don't  see  the  danger,  though  it  stands  in  the  shape  of  tl.«- 
<:un-nur//le.  tli.it  ever  bellowed  from  the  walls  of  Charle.stown  ii 
the  great  siege.     Now,  Mnggs,  since   you   say  now  that  you 
derstand  the  argyment  I   set   you,  and   that  you  agree  to  have 
your  liberties  the  same  as  the  rest  of  us,  I'll  jist  open  your  < 
i«.  a  little  of  the  resk  you've,    been    a-nmniii£   for  the   la.-i 
days.     Look — read  this  here  letter,  and  see  if  you  can  recollrc.' 
the  writing." 


THE    TKIAL    i  I'll.  155 

The  •  kl  <>f  the  landlord  tho  instant  that  tlie 

scout  hande  1  him  tin-  letter. 

"  Whore  did  you  find  it,  Supple  .'"  In-  gapped,  apprehensively. 
"Find  it  !      1   f;r>t  found  the  •Ctllp  of  the  chap  that  carried  it," 
the  cool  reply.     "  lint  yon  answer  to  the  writing,  don't  yon 
—  it's  your'n  ?" 

"  \\V11,  I  reckon  yon  know  it,  Supple,  without  i:iy  saying  so." 
'  Reckon  1  tin,  Mug«;s —  it's  pretty  well  known  in  those  parts; 
and  b'pose  anv  of  our  I.  >ys  but  me  had  got  hold  of  it!      Where 
dd  yon  be,  1  wonder?  —  .swinging  on   one  of  the  oak  limits 
hcf-ire   yonr  own  do«r  ;   wangling  a  good    pair  of  legs  of  n. 
of  n.sc  t.»  yon.  ylsody  olsc.      Hut  I'm  your  friend,  M 

a  better  friend   to  you   than   you've    been    to  yourself.      1    come 
and   argy   the    matter  with   yon,  and    reason    with    you   to 
nderstanding,  and  make  a  convarsion  of  yon  without   try: 
frighten  yon  into  it.      Now  that  yon  see  the  error  of  yonr  ! 
I  show  yon  their  danger  also.      This   letter  is  tory  all   over,  luit 
theie's  one  thing  in  it   that    made-    me    have   marry  upon  yon  — 
it's  hero,  jist   in    the    middle,  v  here   yon    beg    that    bloody  tory, 
!    Conway,  to   have   inarcy   on    his   brother.       Anybody  that 
>ks  friendly,  or  kind,  of  Clarence  Conway,  I'll  help  him  if  1 
can.     Now,  Muggs,  I'll  go  with    yon   to   yonr  house,  and   there 
I'll  burn  this  letter  in  your  own  sight,  s<»  that  it'll  never  rise  up 
in  judgment  agin   yon.      P>ut  you   must    make  a  clean   bre 
it.      You  must  tell  me  all  you  know,  that  I  may  be  sure 
tin-   truth    according    to   the    lesson,  which,  with    the   helpi: 

been  able  to  give  yon." 

iandli.nl  frit  himself  at  the  mercy  of  the  BCOUl  ;    but  the 

treatment  which  he    had  received  from  the  worthy  fel- 

—  treatment  so  unwonted  at  that  period  of  wanton  bloodshed 

e  cruelty  —  inclined  him  favorably  to  the  can.se,  the  argu- 

r  which  had  been  produced  by  «>  liberal  a  disputant.     11  > 

iy  adverted  lu-.re  than 

••  1  far  better;   and,  if  the   landl".  1  at  all  in  his 

ie\cdations,  i'  ling  —  natural, 

mind,  ho\\e\  cr    1. .\\I\-  —  which    inak- 

which  it  has  joined  for 
i.ery.      The    information    which    the 


156  THE   SCOUT. 

tained,  and  which  was  valuable  to  the  partisans,  he  drew  from 
the  relator  by  piecemeal.  Every  item  of  knowledge  was  drawn 
from  him  by  its  own  leading  question,  and  yielded  with  broken 
utterance,  and  the  half-vacant  look  of  one  who  is  only  in  part 
conscious,  as  he  is  only  in  part  willing. 

"Pretty  well,  Muggs,  though  you  don't  come  out  like  a  man 
who  felt  the  argyment  at  the  bottom  of  his  onderstanding 
There's  something  more  now.  In  this  bit  of  writing  there's 
line  or  two  about  one  Peter  Flagg,  who,  it  seems,  carried  t'ort}- 
one  niggers  to  town  last  January,  and  was  to  ship  'cm  to  the 
West  Iiijies.  Now,  can  you  tell  if  he  did  ship  them  niggers  ?" 

"  I  can't  exactly  now,  Supple — it's  onbeknown  to  me." 

"  But  how  come  you  to  write  about  this  man  and  them  nig 
gers  ?" 

"Why,  you  see,  Peter  Flagg  was  here  looking  after  the 
captain." 

"  Ah  !  —  he  was  here,  was  he  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  jined  the  captain  just  before  Butler's  men  gin  him 
that  chase." 

"  He's  with  Ned  Conway  then,  is  he  ?" 

14  No,  I  reckon  not.  He  didn't  stay  with  the  captain  but  half 
a  day." 

"  Ah  !  ha  !  —  and  where  did  he  go  then  ?" 

"  Somewhere  across  the  river." 

"  Below,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Yes,  he  took  the  lower  route ;  I  reckon  he  went  toward  the 
Santee." 

"  Isaac  Muggs,  don't  you  know  that  the  business  of  Pete 
Flagg  is  to  ship  stolen  niggers  to  the  West  Injy  islands  ?" 

"  Well,  Supple,  I  believe  it  is,  though  I  don't  know." 

1  That's  enough  about  Pete.  Now,  Muggs,  when  did  you  see 
Watson  Gray  last  ?  You  know  the  man  I  mean.  He  comes 
from  the  Congaree  near  Granby.  He's  the  one  that  watches 
Brier  Park  for  Ned  Conway,  and  brings  him  in  every  report 
about  the  fine  bird  that  keeps  there.  You  know  what  bird  I 
mean,  don't  you  1" 

44  Miss  Flora,  I  reckon." 

44  A  very  good  reckon.     Well !  you  know  Gray  V 


THK    TUI.U.    FOR    THK    TRUTH.  15"7 

"Yes —  !.»•'-   ;>.   great    scout  —  tl.-  ftcr  you,  I'm  think 

ing,  on  till'  ('<>!)-;:: 

Pore  inc.  M uir^s"  s«'»i»l   the  scout,  Avith   a   soher  sli 
the  head.      "  lie's  brf  >iv  me,  in-  IM  ha'  trapped  him  inany's  the 
long  day    ago,      He's  the  only   outlyer  that's   beyond   my 
that    I    acknowledge   on   the   river:   hut   he's   a   skunk  —  a   bad 
chap   about  the  heart.     His  bosom's  full  of  black  places.     Jit- 
to  do  ugly  things,  and  to  make  a  brag  of  Yin  afterward, 
and  that's  a  had  character  fur  a  good  scout.      But  that's  neither 
hen-  nor  thar.     I  only  want  you  now  to  think  up,  and  tcK 
when  he  was  here  last." 

"  Well  !— " 

"Ah,  don't  stop  to  'well'  about  it,"  cried  the  other  impa 
tiently — "  speak  out  like  a  bold  man  that's  jest  got  the  truth. 
Wn'n't  "Watson  Gray  here  some  three  days  ago  —  before  the 
troop  came  down  —  and  didn't  he  leave  a  message  by  word  of 
mouth  with  you?  Answer  me  that,  Muggs,  like  a  good  whig  as 
you  ought  to  be." 

"  It's  tine  as  turpentine,  Supple ;  but,  Lord  love  you,  how  did 
you  come  to  guess  it  .'" 

"No  matter  that! — up  now, and  tell  me  what  that  same  mes 
sage  was." 

"That's  a  puzxler,  1  reckon,  for  I  didn't  onderstand  it  all  my 
self.     There  wa>  live  Micks  and  two  bits  of  paper  —  on  one 
a   lung   string  of  multiplication   and   'rithmetic  —  figures  and  all 
that  ! — on  the  other  was  a  sort  of  drawing  that  looked  most  like 
ick." 

"  Kh  ! — The  gal  on  horseback  was  nateral  enough.      Perhaps 
1  can  make  out  that;   but  the.  hits  of  stick   and  'rithmetic   is  all 
•••rish.      Wa'n't  there  nothing  that  you  had  to  say  by  word 
•uth  t'i  Ned  I'niiv. . 

1    W   .  U)   bfl      Die.      !!«•   left  word   as    how  the  whL 

thicker  and  thicker — how  Sumter   and   hee  marked  all  the 
road  from  (Jianby  d.-wn  to  Oraiigehurg  with   their   ho: 
and   never   afranl  ;   and  hov.    Q  a-pu>h!ng   ar 

ard  Ninety-Six,  where  he  was  -nine  to  '.siege  Ciur 

"  <  '1  1   iifw.s,  Muggs,  and    I    reckon  you'\c  kept  hack  the  best 


158  *THB    SCOUT. 

for  the  last.    What  did  lie  have  to  say  'bout  Miss  Flora  ?     Speak 
up  to  th.it  !" 

"Not  a  word.     I  don't  think  ho  said  anything  more,  onless  it 
v.  as  something  about  boats  being  a-plenty,  and  no  danger  of 
"-tracks  on  the  river." 

"  There's  a  meaning  in  that ;  and  I  must  spell  it  out,"  said 
the  scout;  "but  now,  Muggs,  another  question  or  two.  Who 
\\  as  the  man  that  Xed  Conway  sent  away  prisoner  jest  before 
day  ?" 

"  Lord,  SuppU1,  yui  sees  <-\  erything !"  ejaculated  the  landlord. 
Pressed  by  the  wily  scout,  ho  related,  with  tolerable  correctness, 
all  the  particulars  of  the  affray  the  night  before  between  tin 
captain  of  the  Black  Riders  and  his  subordinate  ;  and  threw 
such  an  additional  light  upon  the  causes  of  quarrel  between  them 
as  suggested  to  the  scout  a  few  now  measures  of  policy. 

"  Well,  y>  .;•!  he,  at  the  close,  "I'll  tell  you  something 

in  return  for  all  you've  told  me.  My  boys  caught  that  same 
kton  and  trapped  his  guard  in  one  hour  after  they  took  the 
road  ;  and  I'm  glad  to  find,  by  putting  side  by  side  v.hat  they 
confessed  and  what  you  tell  me,  that  you've  stuck  to  the  truth 
like  a  gentleman  and  a  whig.  They  didn't  tell  me  about  the 
lieutenant's  wanting  to  be  cappin,  but  that's  determined  me  to 
parole  the  fellow  that  lie  may  carry  on  his  mischief  in  the  troop. 
I'm  going  to  leave  you  now,  Muggs;  but  you'll  see  an  old  man 
coming  here  to  look  after  a  horse,  about  midday.  (..Jive  him  a 
drink,  and  say  to  him,  that  you  don't  know  untiling  about  the 
horse,  but  there's  a  hound  on  track  after  something,  that  went 
barking  above,  three  hours  boforv.  That'll  sarvc  his  purpose 
an;!  mine  too  :  and  now,  God  bless  you,  old  boy,  and.  remember. 
I'm  your  friend,  and  I  can  do  you  better  sarvice  now  than  any 
two  Black  Riders  of  the  gang.  As  I've  conva'U'd  you.  I'll 
;  bv  \  on,  aud  I'll  iv.ve.r  be  so  far  oil  in  the,  swamp  that  1 
;  hear  yuiir  grunting,  and  come  out  to  your  help.  So,  good- 
by,  and  no  more,  forgittiug  of  that  argymeut." 

"And  wii  vi.u  going  now,  Supple  ?" 

"  l'.-ho,  !  •  v.  that'fi  irlling.  Was  I  to  let  you  know  that, 
Watson  Gray  might  worm  it  out  from  under  your  tongue,  with 
)ut  taking  u  w  rattle  for  it.  I'll  tell  yo"  when  I  come  back." 


GLIM  I'lTS.  159 

Am!  with  a  good-hunioivd  chuckle  tin-  scout  disappeared, 
leaving  the  landlord  to  meditate,  at  his  leisure,  upon  the  value  of 
those  arguments  which  had  made  him  in  one  day  resign  a  faith 
which  had  been  cherished  as  long —  as  it  had  proved  profitable. 
Mnggs  hail  no  hope  that  the  new  faith  would  prove  equally  so; 
hut  if  it  secured  to  him  the  goodly  gains  of  the  past,  he  was  sat- 

!.     Like  many  of  the  tories  at  this  period,  he  received  a 
sudden  illumination,  which  showed  him  in  one  moment  the  errors 
for  which  he  had  been  lighting  live  years.     Let  not  this  sur 
our  r  In  llie  closing  battles  of  the  Revolution  in  South 

•linn,  many  were  the  t«>ries,  converted  to  the  patriot  cause, 
who,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  displayed  the  mo.xt  conspicuous 
bravery  fighting  on  the  popular  side.  And  this  must  not  be 

MM!  to  lower  them  in  our  opinion.  The  revolutionary  war, 
in  South  Carolina,  did  not  so  much  divide  the  people,  because 
of  the  tendencies  to  loyalty,  or  liberty,  on  either  hand,  U 

il  and  other  influences  —  personal  and  sectional 
feuds  —  natural  enough  to  a  new  country,  in  which  one  third  of 
the  people  were  of  foreign  birth. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

GLIMPSES    OP    PASSION    AM)    ITS    FRUITS. 

Sri-i'u:  ,J.M  K  -oon  joined  his  commander,  bringing  with  him, 
undimimMied  by  use  or  travel,  all  the  various  budgets  of  intelli- 

B  which  he  had  collected    in    his   scout.      lie   had   di<in" 
the  insubordinate  lieutenant  of  the  Black  Riders  on  parole;   not 
without   suffering   him    to    hear,  as  a  familiar  on   <lit   along   the 
river,  that  Captain   Morton  was   about    to    sacrifice  the  troop  at 
the  first  opportunity,  and  fly  with  all  his  booty  from  the  coil' 
"J'\.-    k     .A'.;.11    -aid    he   to   himself,  after  Stockton  took   hi* 
rtore,  "  1  :k   than   that  set  off  • 

barnd  Qfi 
To  I,!  .  having  delivered  all  the  intelligence  which  he 


160  THK   >COUT. 

had  gained  of  the  movements  as  well  of  tlie  public  as  private 
enemy,  he  proceeded,  as  usual,  to  give  such  counsel  as  the  na 
ture  of  his  revelations  seemed  to  suggest.  This  may  be  summed 
up  in  brief,  without  fatiguing  the  reader  with  the  detailed  con 
versation  which  ensued  between  them  in  their  examination  of 
Ihe  subject. 

"From  what  I  see,  colonel,  Ned  Comvay  is  gone  below.  It'.- 
(rue  he  did  seem  to  take  the  upper  route,  but  Massey  can't  li::-l 
the  track  after  he  gits  to  Fisher's  Slue"  (diminutive  for  sluice) 
"There,  I  reckon,  he  chopped  right  round,  crossed  the  slue,  I'm 
thinking,  and  dashed  below.  Well,  what's  he  gone  below  for. 
and  what's  Pete  Flagg  gone  for  across  to  the  Santee  ?  —  Pete, 
that  docs  nothing  but  ship  niggers  for  the  British  officers.  They 
all  sec  that  they're  got  to  go,  and  they're  for  making  hay  while 
the  sun  is  still  a-shining.  Now,  I'm  thinking  that  Ned  Conwav 
is  after  your  mother's  niggers.  He'll  steal  'em  and  ship  'cm  by 
Pete  Flagg  to  the  West  Indies,  and  be  the  first  to  follow,  the 
moment  that  Kawdon  gits  licked  by  Greene.  It's  cl'ar  to  me 
that  you  ought  to  go  below  and  see  about  the  business." 

The  arguments  of  the  woodman  were  plausible  enough,  and 
Clarence  Conway  felt  them  in  their  fullest  force.  But  he  had 
his  doubts  about  the  course  alleged  to  be  taken  by  his  kinsman, 
and  a  feeling  equally  selfish,  perhaps,  but  more  noble  intrinsi 
cally,  made  him  fancy  that  his  chief  interest  lay  above.  lie 
was  not  insensible  to  his  mother's  and  his  own  probable  loss, 
should  the  design  of  Kdward  Conway  really  be  such  as  Ban 
nister  suggested,  but  a  greater  stake,  in  his  estimation,  lay  in 
the  person  of  the  fair  Flora  Middleton ;  and  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  believe,  valuing  her  charms  as  he  did  himself,  that 
his  kinsman  would  forego  such  game  for  the  more  mercenary 
objects  involved  in  the  other  adventure. 

The  tenor  of  the  late  interview  between  himself  and  the  chief 
of  the  Black  Riders,  had  forced  his  mind  to  brood  with  serious 
anxiety  on  the  probable  fortunes  of  this  lady;  and  his  own 
hopes  and  fears  becoming  equally  active  at  the  same  time,  tho 
exulting  threats  and  bold  assumptions  of  Kdward  Conway  —  *y 
very  diil'eieiit  from  the  sly  humility  of  his  usual  deportment  — 
awakened  all  his  apprehensions,  lie  resolved  to  go  foi  \vard  to 


CUM;  K'l 


tlic    i  C  -ipou    the    pleasant    lianks    of   wl 

tlif  princolv  domains  of  tlio  Middloton  familv  ;    persuaded,  g 

that    the    rival    with    whom   he   contended    for   so   p-oat    a 
mre,   equally  wily  and   dishonorable,  had    in    contemplation 
sonic  now  villain*,  which,   if  ii"1  My   met,  would    i 

in  equal  loss  to  himself  and  misery  to  the  maiden  of  his  heart. 

he   did    not   resolve   thus,  without  certain  misjrivin. 
•elf-reproaches.      His   nether  was    fpiito   as  dear  to   him  afl 
mother  was  to  the  favorite  son  of  her  affections.      II,-  k;>, 
danger  in  which  her  property  stood,  and  was  not  heedless  of  the 
alarm  which    *ho  would    experience,  in   her   declining  years  and 
douhtfnl  liealtli,  at  the  inroad   of  any  marauding  foe.      Tl,< 
mimonts   of  a   stron<roi    passion,  however.  pre\  ailed  ah" 
apprehensions,  and  lie  contented  himself  with  a  determination  to 
make  the  hest  of  his  way  hclow.  as  soon  as  he  had  assured  him- 
of  the    safety   and    repose   of  cvorythin.fr    nhovp.      Tcrhaps, 
too,  ho   had   a   farther   ohject  in  this  contemplated  vi>it  to  Kh;ra 

leton.     Tlio  counsel   of  Bannister  on   a    previous 
'.\hich  urjrod  upon  him  to  bring  his  doubte  to  conviction  on  the 
suhject  of  the   course  which   her  feelings  mi^ht    1  d  to 

take,  found  a  corresponding  ea^cnirss  in  his  own  heart  to  arrive 
nt  a  knowledge,  always  so  de-iraUe  to  a  lover,  and  \\hich  ho 
.-eeks  in  fear  and  trcinhling  as  well  as  in  Impe. 

"I  will  but  see  her,"  was  his  uuuttercd  determination,  "I  will 
luit  soo  her,  and  see  that   she  is  safe,  and   hear  at  once  her  Una) 

•vr.     These  doubts  arc  too  painful   for  endurance!      1 
to   hear   the    worst    at   once,  than    live    always   in    apprehension 
«•>!'  it." 

Leaving  the,  youthful  partisan  to  pursue  his  own  cmirsr.  let  u;s 
now  turn  for  a  while  to  that  of  Kdward  Morton,  and  th< 

.nditti    which    he    commanded.       He    ],;\<    ,;1: 
•lie  Wateroo,  traversed   tho   country  1-etween   that    . 
and  the  Con^areo  ;   and  after  various  small   adventures. 

;  likely  to  occur  in  such  a  progress,  hut  which 
do  not  demand  from  us  any  more  special  notice,  we  find  him  on 
the  !  :he  latter  hborhood 

ot   t!  I  ere  it  re  •   the    twi 

warring:  waters  of  the   Saludn   and   the   Broad  —  I  ihse- 


n.L7  TIIK  scour, 

(jueiilly,  hotter   distinguished    as    the    chosen    site    of  one  of  the 
loM-licst  t««\vns  of  the.    state  —  the    seat    OJ  it;il,    and    of  a 

ic  of  refinement,  worth,  courtesy,  and  taste,  which  are 
nut  often  equalled  in  any  region,  and  are  certainly  surpas.-cd  ii) 
none. 

Columbia,   however,   at    the    period   of  our   stoiy,   was   not    in 
.1    the   meeting    of  its   tributary   waters,  their   stri- 
111  rivalry,  and    the    continual    clamors   of  theii 
Strife,  formed    the    chief  distinction    of  the    i-pot  ;    and    conferred 
upon   it   no   small   decree   -if  picturesque  vitality  and  loveliness. 
A    fe\v  miles   below,  on    the    opposite    side    of  the    stream,  stood 
then    the    flourishing   town    of  (iranby —  a  place   of  considerable 
magnitude   and    real    importance   to   the.  wants  of  the  contiguous 
country,  but  now  fallen  into  decay  and  utterly  deserted.      A  -ar- 
:,cd  town  of  the  British,  it  had  just    before    this    period  been 
-•ndered  by  Colonel  Maxwell  to  the  combined  American  force 
under  Snmter   and    Lee  —  an    event  which    counselled    the    chief 
of  the    Black    Killers    to    an    increased    decree   of  caution    as   he 
approached   a   neighborhood   so   likelv  to    be,   swarming  with  en 
emies. 

Here  we  may  as  well  communicate  to  the  reader. such  por 
tions  of  the  current  history  of  the  time,  as  had  not  yet    entirely 
reached  this  wily  marauder.    While  he  was  pUTfUing  his  personal 
and    petty    objects   of    plunder   on    the  Waleree,    Lord    Ra 
had    fled    from    < 'amden.  which    lie    left    in    flames;    Snmter  had 
taken    Orangeburg  J     Fort    Motte    had    surrendered    to    Marion  ; 
the  British  had  been  compelled  to  evacuate,  their  po.-.t  at  Nel 
ferry  ;     and    the    only    fortified    place    of  which    they    now    kept 
i    in   the   interior  was   that   of  Ninety-Si  \  ;    a  station  of 
'    importance,    to    their    interests    in    the    back    country,    and 
which,  accordingly,  they  resohed  to  defend  to  the  last  extremity 
But    though    ignorant    of   some    of   the    events    here    broii-'h. 

"her,  Kdward    Morton  was   by  no  means  ignorant  of  the 
iiculties   which    were    accumulating    around    the    fortuin 
British,  and  which,  he   naturally  enough   concluded,  must   n 
in    these,  and    even   worse    disasters.      Of  the  fall  of  (Irani  y  h<- 
aware;   of  the  audacity  and  number   of  the  American    par 
his   scouts   hourly  informed    him,  even   if  his  own    frequent 


and  nan  liim   to  |  :'  the 

prcvailiiiLT  danger*     B 

he  1.  desire  1..  caution,  fur  the  pi 

tion  .       •  •  it  which 

rni^lit    p  lew  prudent,  ami  of  tlni  proper  kind. 

Hi-  had  neither  wish    n«»r  motive  to  £•>  forward  rashly;   am 
con!  find   him   advaucin-    to  the  Saluda,  with  tin-  slow, 

wln>  looks   to    hchoM    his   enen.N 
f-irtli.  without    summons    «-t'  trumpet,   i'roin    the    hosoin 

•  al'-iiu.'  thi1  !  'Mitr. 

It\\a>    noon  when    his   tr««oji   rcaclu-d    the    hL  ••ftlic 

rivrr.  tlie  murmur  i.f  whose  falls,  like  the  di-tai.t  mat! 
oi-ean  upon  some  island-hearh.  \\eri-  lu-ard,  jdeasantly 
in  t!  ,:.  A  «. 

the    employments    of  !; 

stationed,  and    the  iendered    thcmsrlvi-s   to  rej 

:    his   own    la.-hii-ii  :  •    slumhe  . 

•.-.  andered    oif  to    t! 

•  or  to  meditate,  as  their  various  inood.s  might  inch 

:    from  the  rest,  and  found  a  sort  of  ' 

rock  immediately  overha; 

unded  \,y  an  nml-ra-eoii>  fo 

:inrth,  and  yielded  himself  up  to  those  hroodii.. 

iultijdyin^  folds  alioiit   his  mind,  in   the   i 
grasp  of  whieh  it  worked  slowly  and  without   its  r. 
ity. 
nieditati'..  nful  with  a  sjiirit  BU 

'•n  M  hen 

rounded    hy    ;:  "-lily 

tends  to  its   i.-olation    as    eomjiletely  I 

II  this.      He    had    1  ;,d  not  in  vai:. 

Uif  Bpoflf  bad  b<  He 

had  hoarded  up  a 

ilu-  \  icissituth  {'•rtune   ! 

lie    h;,-l  ;it    he    hilii^e!; 

n    to    liel!.  all 

ad  him        II.     lia.l    kej-t    i\»\\  n  fear,  and  d< 

,   hut    it  was   in    moment>   > 


1(34  THK   SCOUT. 

like  tins,  that  he  himself  found  none.  It  was  then  that  his  fears 
grew  bus)-  —  th.it  lie  began  to  distrust  his  fate,  and  to  apprehend 
that  all  that  future,  which  he  fondly  fancied  to  pass  in  serenity 
of  fortune,  if  not  of  mind  and  feeling,  would  yet  be  clouded  and 
compassed  with  denial.  His  eye,  stretching  away  on  either 
hand,  beheld  the  two  chafing  rivers  rushing  downward  to  that 
embrace  which  they  seem  at  once  to  desire  and  to  avoid.  A 
slight  barrier  of  land  and  shrubbery  interposes  to  prevent  their 
too  sudden  meeting.  Little  islands  throw  themselves  between, 
as  if  striving  to  thwart  the  fury  of  their  wild  collision,  but  in 
vain  !  The.  impetuous  waters  force  their  way  against  every 
"bstructfon  ;  and  wild  and  angry,  indeed,  as  if  endued  with 
moral  energies  and  a  human  feeling  of  hate,  is  their  first  en- 
n  Tutor — their  recoil  —  their  return  to  the  conflict,  in  foam  and 
roar  ;VM!  commotion,  until  exhaustion  terminates  the  strife,  and 
il>  -y  at  length  repose  together  in  the  broad  valleys  of  the  Con- 
6  below. 

The  turbulence  of  the  scene  alone  interested  the  dark-bosomed 
.--.tor  whose  fortunes  we  contemplate.    He  saw  neither  its  sub 
lime  nor  its  gentle  features  —  its  fair  groves — its  sweet  islands  of 
rock  and  tufted  vegetation,  upon  which  the  warring  water,5,  as  if 
i!!y  struggling  to  do  honor  to  their  benevolent  interposition, 
fiiny;  ever  their  flashing,  and  transparent  wreaths  of  whitish  foam 
!y  thought  was  busy  in  likening  the  prospect  to  that 
turbulence,  tlic  result  of  wild  purposes  and  wicked  desires,  which 
filled  his  own  bosom.     A  thousand  impediments,  like  the  numer 
ou»  rocks  and  islands  that  rose  to  obstruct  the  passage  of  the 
::ns  which  he  surveyed,  lay  in  his  course,  baffling  his  aim. 
driving  him  from  his  path,  resisting  his  desires,  and   -.-altering 
inefficiently  all  his  powers.     Even  as  the  waters  which  he  be 
held,  complaining  in  the  fruitless  conflict  with  the  rndc  masses 
from  which  they  momently  recoiled,  so  did  he,  unconsciously, 
break  into  speech,  as  the  difficulties  in  his  own  future  progress 
grew  more  and  more  obvious  to  his  reflections. 

"There  must  soon  be  an  end  to  this.  That  old  fool  was 
right.  I  should  be  a  fool  to  wait  to  see  it.  Once,  twice,  thrice 
already,  have  I  escaped,  when  death  seemed  certain.  Let  me 
not  provoke  Fortune  —  let  me  not  task  her  too  far.  It  will  be 


<,l.]v. .  J    KHUITB.  M- 

bailie    these    bloodhoundfi    much    longer!      Their 
their  iiuinhers  too  great,  ami  the  spoil  too  cn- 
couraging.     '  nougli.     I  have  proved  my 

lo\.  dty  in<l""d  ! — a  profitable  pretext!  —  and  there 

will  he  no  diiViculty  now  in  convincing  Rawdon  that  I  ought  n«»t 
:    to  linger  liore  in  waiting  for  the  end.     That  end 
—  what  j-hall  it  be  ?  — A  hard  fight  — a  bloody  field  —  a  sharp 
pain    and    quiet!      Quiet!  —  that    \\  <  thing,    too,    which 

might  al-  :cile  one  to  linger.    Could  I  be  secure  of  that, 

at  t1  i  Mnall  pain  only;   hut  it  may  lie,  worse.     Captiv 

ity  M  tn  death.     In  their  hands,  alive,  and 

,'ani-Oi  tortures  would  equal  mine.     No!  no!   I  must  not  en- 
•liat    linger.      1   must    keep    in   reserve  one  weapon  at 
.iied  to  the  one  purpose.     This  —  this!  must  secure 
I'tivltv  !" 

lie    drew   frmn    his  ho.-oin,  as   he.   spoke   these  words,  a  small 

f  CUlioUfl  manufacture,  which  he  contemplated  with  an 

rate   stm  "he  exquisite  Moori>h  woikman- 

.shij)  ot'  tlu'  handle,  and   the    rich   and  variegated   enamel  of  the 

blade,  served   to   pnnmite   the   train   of  gloomy   >pei-ulati<m   into 

ii  he  had  fallen.      A  ru>tling  of  tin-  leaves  —  the   slight 

foot   immediately  behind  him  —  caused  him   to  start   to   his 

; — but  he  resumed  his  place  with  an  air  of  vexation,  as  he 

Id   in   the,   intruder,  the   person   of  the  boy  whom  we  have 

i-efi.iv  in  close  attendance  upon  him. 

••How    now!''   he    exclaimed   impatiently ;    "can   I   have  no 
;  —  why   will   you    thus    persist    in    following 

••  I    li.-ive    no    on-  follow,"  was  the  meek  reply  —  the 

i'allinir,  a>   it    were,   in    echo    from    a,  weak   and   withered 


•  no  one  el^e  to  follow,  and  —  and — " 
Tin-  lips  faltered  into  silei 
"  Spe;ik  out  —  and  what  ? — " 

;  till   to  me  that  I  should  go  with  none  but  you  — 

••urn   me   m>t  —  drive   me  not  away  with 

aid  cruel  accents; — let  me  linger  beside   you 

—  ti  ,  til!  out  of  yiiur  sight  ;   for  I  am  des 


166  THE   RCOU1 

olate —  oh!  so  '.e.s<;/ate,  when  you  leave  me!  —  you,  to  whom 
alone,  of  all  the,  world,  I  may  have-  some  right  to  look  for  pro- 
ted  ion  and  for  life." 

The  sex  of  the  speaker  stood  revealed  —  in  the  heaving  breast 
—  the  wo-begonc  countenance  —  the  heart-broken  despondency 
of  look  and  gesture  —  the  tear-swollen  and  down-looking  eye. 
threw  herself  before  him  as  she  spoke,  her  face  bunVd  in 
her  hands  and  prone  upon  the  ground,  ller  sobs  succeeded  her 
.  peech,  and  in  fact  silenced  it. 

"No  more  of  this,  Mary  Clarkson,  you  disturb  and  vex  me. 
Rise.  I  have  seen,  for  some  days  past,  that  you  had  some  new 
tribulation  —  some  new  burden  <>f  wo  to  deliver;  —  out  with  it 
now  —  say  what  you  have  to  say  ; — and,  look  you,  no  winnings  ! 
Life  is  too  seriously  lull  of  real  evils,  dangers,  and  ditliculties,  to 
sutler  me  to  bear  with  these,  imaginary  afflictions." 

"  Oh,  God,  Edward  Conway,  it  is  not  imaginary  with  me.  It 
is  real  —  it  is  to  be  seen  —  to  be  felt.  I  am  dying  with  it.  It 
is  in  rny  pale  cheek  —  my  burning  brain,  in  which  there  is  a 
••'instant  fever.  Oh,  look  not  upon  me  thus  —  thus  angrily  — 
for,  in  truth  I  am  dying.  I  feel  it  !  I  know  that  J  can  not  live 
very  long;  —  and  yet,  I  am  so  afraiQ  to  die.  It  is  this  fear,  Kd- 
ward  Conway,  that  makes  me  intrude  upon  you  now." 

"And  what  shall  I  do,  and  what  shall  I  say  to  lessen  your 
fears  of  death  ?  And  why  should  I  do  it — why,  yet  more, 
should  you  desire  it?  Death  is,  or  might  to  be,  a  verv  good 
tiling  for  one  who  professes  to  be  so  very  miserable  in  li. 
yourself.  You  heard  me.  as  you  approached  ?  —  if  you  did,  you 
must  have  heard  my  resolution  to  seek  death,  from  my  own 
on,  under  certain  circumstances.  Now.  it  is  my  noti<;:;  th:«t 
Mover  life  becomes  troublesome,  s..«mer  than  grumble  at  it 
hourly,  I  should  make  use  of  some  small  instrument  like  this. 
A  finger  prick  only  —  no  greater  pain  —  will  sullice,  and  put  :\\, 
end  to  life  and  pain  in  the  same  instant." 

"Would  it  could  !  would  it  could  !''  exclaimed  the  unfortr.i 
victim  of  that  perfidy  which  now  laughed  her  miseries  to  sconi. 

"Why,  so  it  can  !      Do  you  doubt  .'      I  tell  you.  that  thei, 
no  more   pain,  Mary,  in  driving   this  dagger  into  ;  ;t  — 

into   JN    most  tender    and    vital    places  —  than    there    would    be. 


OF    PAS  m    ITS    FRUITS.  I'M 

burying  it  in   your  linger.      Death  will  follow,  and  there's  the 
end  of  h." 

"Not  tin-  end,  not  the  end — if  it  were,  Edward  Conway,  how 
gladly  w.mhl    I    inijtlore   from   your  hand   the  blessing  of  • 
lasting  p'-ace  \\hich  would    follow  from  its  blow.      It  is  the.  here- 
-the  awful  hereafter  —  which  I  fear  to  meet." 

"  i  whip  of  the  hangman  —  a  bugbear  of  the  ; 

l'"i-  »  ad  women!      I'll  warrant  you,  if  you  are  will'::.. 

try  the  experiment,  perfect  security  from  all  pain  hereafter!" 

And  the  heartless  wretch  extended  toward  her  the  hand 
rt'hieh  contained  the  glittering  weapon.  She  shuddered  and 
'urned  away — giving  him,  as  she  did  so,  such  a  look  as,  e\eii 
he.  callous  as  he  was,  shrunk  to  behold.  A  glance  of  reproach, 
more  keen,  deep,  and  touching,  than  any  word  of  complaint 
which  her  lips  had  ever  ventured  to  utter. 

"Alas!  1-M ward  C'onway,  has  it  really  come  to  this!  To  you 
I  have  yielded  everything  —  virtue,  peace  of  mind  —  tl.. 
father,  and  of  mother,  and  of  friends  —  all  that's  most  dear  —  all 
that  the  heart  deems  most  desirable  —  and  you  offer  me.  in  re 
turn,  for  '  :eath,  death! — the  sharp,  sudden  poniard  — 
the  cold,  cold  grave  !  If  you  oiler  it,  Kdward  Couway  —  strike  ! 

—  the    death    is    welcome!       Kven    the    fear    of    it    is    ! 

t   me,   free; — I  will  vex   you   no   longer  with  my  j 

"  Why,  what  a  peevish  fool  you  are.  Mary  Clarkson  !  tin-, 
t"   be  'U  are   ii"t  very  different    from   the   rest.      Th 

in)  plea-ing  any  of  you,  do  ;is  we  may.     You  first  come  to  n 
clamor  about  your   distaste  of  life,  and  by  your  perpetual  grum- 
blin.  .  ke   it   a-,  distasteful    to   ; 

',  |  tell  y(,u  —  this  is  nnj  remedy — this  sudden,  shai  p 
Wh<  i    -hall  come  l»  regard  lite  Bfl  a  thing  of  so  much  I 

MI  do,  I  shall  end  it;    and   1  also  add,  in  the  bene\ «  : 
y  heart — "here  is  my  medicament —  f    share   it  with    \ 

—  and  ](}  !  what  an  uproar — what  a  li-. \\lipg.      I.«ok  vu,  !\i 
you  must  trouble  me  no  longer  in  this  manner.      I  am,  just  : 

in  tl,  T  with  the  best  friend  under  the 

Mill." 

"  Oh.  Kdv  j  .mi-  PI-..JD 


168  THE   SCOUT. 

ise  !     Do  you   remember  your  promise  to   me,  by  the   poplar 
spring,  that  hour  of  my  shame?  —  that  awful  hour!     Oh  !   what 
was  that  promise,  Edward  Conway  ?     Speak,  Edward  Comvay  ! 
Repeat  that  promise,  and  confess  I  was  not  all  guilty.     No,  no 
I  was  only  all  credulous !     You  beguiled  me  with  a  promise  — 
\\ilh  an  oath  —  a  solemn  oath  before  Heaven  —  did  you  not?- 
that   I   should  be  your  wife.     Till  then,  at  least,  I  was   m  ' 
guilty  !" 

"Did  I  really  make  such  a  promise  to  you  —  eh?"  he  askei 
with  a  scornful  affectation  of  indifference. 

"  Surely,  you  will  not  deny  that  you  did  ?"  she  exclaimed, 
with  an  earnestness  which  was  full  of  amazement. 

"  Well,  1  scarcely  remember.  But  it  matters  not  much,  Mar, 
Clarkson.  You  were  a  fool  for  believing.  How  could  you  SID 
pose  that  I  would  marry  you  ?  Ha!  Is  it  so  custoinarx 
pride  and  poverty  to  unite  on  the  Congaree  that  you  should  be 
lieve  ?  Is  it  customary  for  the  eldest  son  of  one  of  the  wealthi 
est  families  to  wed  with  the  child  of  one  of  the  poorest  ?  AVhy, 
you  should  have  known  by  the  promise  itself  that  I  was  amu 
sing  myself  with  your  credulity  —  that  my  only  object  was  to 
beguile  you  —  to  win  you  on  my  owrn  terms  —  not  to  wear  you  ! 
I  simply  stooped  for  conquest,  Mary  Clarkson,  and  you  were 
willing  to  believe  any  lie  for  the  same  object.  It  was  your 
vanity  that  beguiled  you,  Mary  Clarkson,  and  not  my  words. 
You  wished  to  he  a  line  lady,  and  you  are " 

"  Oh.  do  not  stop.  Speak  it  all  out.  Give  to  my  folly  and 
my  sin  their  true  name.  I  can  bear  to  hear  it  now  without 
shrinking,  for  my  own  thoughts  have  already  spoken  to  my 
l.rart  the  foul  and  fearful  truth.  I  am,  indeed,  loath.-.*: 
myself,  and  would  not  care  to  live  but  that  I  fear  to  die.  'Tis 
not  the  love  of  life  that  makes  me  turn  in  fear  from  the  dagger 
which  you  offer.  This,  Edward  Morton — 'tis  this  which  brings 
me  to  you  now.  I  do  not  seek  you  for  guidance  or  for  counsel 
—  no.no!  —  no  such  folly  moves  me  now.  I  come  to  you  for 
protection — for  safety  —  for  security  frmu  sudden  death  —  from 
the  judge  —  from  the  avenger  !  II  la  pursuing  us  —  I  have  seen 
him!" — and,  as  she  spoke  these,  almost  incoherent  words,  her 
ee  looked  wildly  among  the  thick  woods  around,  with  '«  glance 


.s  OF  PASSION   \v;-  na  FBI  !<>.< 

frill  of  apprehension,  as  it' :! 

at  hand.      Surpri.-.-  :ly  expressed   in  the  featuie-  of  !.   r 

callous  paramour. 

"  He!  Of  whom  speak  you,  cliild  ?  Wli"  is  it  you  fear?"  • 
and  his  glance  followed  the  wild  direction  nf  h 

"  My  father!  —  Jacob  Clark-ni  !      He  is  in  search  of  me — of 

1      And    oh  IE  i    know  h!  .  '      'I 

tell   you  it  will    not    be   your  high   conn,  ratio 

birth   that  will    save   yen  on  the  Congaree   from  a  poor  man's 

.  th.iugh  these  may  make  it  a  trilling  thin., 
poor  man's  child.      lie  is  even  now  in  search  of  us —  I  have 
him  !     I   have  seen  the  object  of  his  whole  soul  in  his  eydj  as  f 
have  seen  it  a  hundred  times  before.     He  will  kill  you  —  he  will 
kill  us  both,  Edward  Conway,  but  he  will  have  revenge!" 

"  Pbhaw,  girl !  You  are  very  foolish.  IIow  can  your  father 
find  u.s  out  I  IIou-  approach  us  I  The  thought  is  f'dly.  As  an 
individual  lie  can  only  approach  u.s  by  coming  into  the  line  of 

-um    him,  and    he   then  might  look  . 
us,  in  each  Oth  .  without  being  able  to  do  us  any  inji 

"Do  not  .speak  BO    Edward,  for  ( 
arms   no   longer-- -I'M   more  !" — and    a    BOrl    of  .^hivering   h 

•  d  o\cr  her  i'ra'iir  I  >ke  these  words. 

"  AS  \  .  Q  pl<  B8C  '."  mutten-d  the  outlaw,  with  an  air  am: 
of  scornful  indifference.      The  girl  proceeded  — 

"  But,  even    without   weapons,   tin1   sight    of  my  father  —  the. 

poll   mine  —  would   kill    me  —  would 
than  any  sort  of  death  !      <  )h,  (i 

bin  nrvn   gee  me  —  the  child  that  has  lost  him,  lo.-t  h.  . 
And  is  bringing  his  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  gr.v. 

".Mary  Clarkson,  who  do  you  think  to  cheat  with  all  t1 

:iment  .?      1  ) -n't    I    know  that  all    th 
and  phrases  are  picked  out  of  books.      This  t;.' 
to  be  tnie." 

"They  may  he.! — they  weie  bonks,  Edwaul  »  which 

me,  and    wh'u-h    I    h»vcd    i  i    your    -, 

:d  not  follow  their 

of  this  stutV,  and   now  to  t!.  ...      .    -,{'  this 

business.      You  ha%  -  urfathei. 


170  TUB   SCOUT. 

"On  the  Wateree  ;   the  day  before  you  came  back  from  }  our 
brother  in  the  swamp  !" 
"  Hrother  me  no  brothers!" -exclaimed   the  outlaw  fiercely ; 

".".ml  h»ok  yon,  girl,  have   1   ao1  told    yon  a  thousand  tiir.es  that 
I  wish  not  to  be  called  Oomvay.      Call  me  Morton,  Cunningham, 
«'olm    Stuart,  or  the  devil  —  or  any  of  the   hundred    names   by 
•A  hich   my  enemies  distinguish  me  and  denominate  my  ch 
but  call   me  not   by  the  name  of  Comvay.     1,  too,  1: 
tiling  iilial  in  my  nature;   and  if  yon  wish  not  to  see  the  l'; 
yon  have  offended, perhaps  it  is  for  the  same  reason  that  1  would 
not  hear  the  name  of  mine.     Let  that  dutiful  reason  content  you 
—  it  may  be   that    I   have  others;   but  these  we  will   forbear  for 
ihc    present.     What    of  .Jacob  Clarkson,  when   ymi   saw   hhh  ? 
Where  was  he?  —  how  employed?  —  and  where  were  you,  and 
who  with  you  ?" 

"Oh,  God!  I  was  fearfully  nigh  tu  him,  and  he  saw  me!  — 
lie  iixed  his  keen,  cold,  deathly  eye  upon  me,  and  1  thought  1 
should  have,  stink  under  it.  1  thought  he  knew  me  ;  but  how 
could  he  in  such  a  guise  as  this,  and  looking,  as  1  do,  pale,  with 
ered,  and  broken  down  with  sin  and  suffering." 

"  Pshaw  !     Where  was  all  this  ?" 

"  At  Isaac's  tavern.  There  was  none  there  beside  myself  and 
Isaac.  He  came  in  and  asked  for  a  calabash  of  water,  lie 
would  drink  nothing,  though  Muggs  kindly  offered  him,  but  he 
would  not.  He  looked  at  me  only  for  an  instant  ;  but  it  seemed 
to  me,  in  that  instant,  that  he  looked  through  and  through  my 
soul.  He  said  nothing  to  me,  and  hardly  anything  to  Isaac  — 
though  he  asked  him  several  questions  ;  and  when  he  drank  the 
water,  and  rested  for  a  little  while,  he  went  away,  hut,  while 
he  stayed,  1  thought  J  should  have  died.  I  could  have  buried 
myself  in  the  earth  to  escape  his  sight;  and  yet  how  1  longed 
to  throw  myself  at  his  feet,  and  beg  for  mercy  !  Could  I  have 
done  that,  I  think  I  should  have  been  happy.  I  should  have 
been  willing  then  to  die.  But  I  dared  not.  He  hadn't  a  human 
look  —  he  didn't  seem  to  feel ;  —  and  I  feared  that  he  might  kill 
me  without  hearkening  to  my  prayer." 

"  Muggs  should  have  told  me  of  this,"  said  the  other,  musingly 


-     .  lurre,  17i 


"  lie  nmsl  bftY6  forgot   n,  01  I  "f  the  uproar  and  great 

confuMon  afterward." 

"That   is  in.  g  K>ri  f.>r  a  ov,ol  fellow  like  him.     I  must 

'ii." 

"But  what  will  y<  E    \vard  —  win-re  .-hall  wo  fly?" 

"  JTh  why  ?      Becai: 

u  that  he  can  not  appr 

•  do  harm;   a:.  ing  us,  have   you   not 

that  I  '.vn  child  without    knowing  her; 

me  as  the  man  who  once  helped 
him  t.  .    fur  the  "idy  undutil'ul  child  he  had." 

D  yi.ur  \\onis,  Kdward,  lor,  of 

I  my  tall. 
have,  not  lon^  —  not  very  loii^  —  to  1. 

,   so,  while  lii'e  lasts,  let  us  bo  up  and  doinur  !" 
the  etdd-i  iooded  reply,  as,  starting  to  hi>  ;   with  the 

id   further  en:.;  u    an   aiinoyiiig  siihject,  lie 

prepared  t"  1-  :;ad  taken  pla 

Her!  td,  bat  fbe  ipoke  not      Her  hands  were  ei 

\\hieh    ti.  irai    lo.st  eijually  np..n 

ami  heart;    and  if  she   meant   to   pray  to  him  for  a  fur- 

d   in  any  stron^-rr  t'.,nn. 
Jly  him  it  remained   unnoticed.      Was   it   unnoticed  l.y  the  • 

:iur  .'Mid    "i  -i-rvant  (iml  !  —  for,  to    him,  when   the.   other  had 
hearing,  were    her   prayers   then   ofi'ered, 

with,  seemingly,  all   the   sincerity  of  a   broken   and  a  contrite 
•pint. 


172  THE  SCOUT. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

\  GLIMPSE  OF  BRIER    PARK:    THE    OATH    OF  THE   BLACK    K1DKK&. 

BY  evening  of  the  same  day,  the  scouts  made  their  appear 
ance,  and  their  reports  were  such  as  to  determine  the  captain 
of  the  Black  Riders  to  cross  the  Congaree  and  puisne  his  «»h- 
jects,  whatever  they  might  be,  along  its  southern  banks.  Suf 
ficient  time  for  rest  had  been  allotted  to  his  troop.  He  believed 
they  had  employed  it  as  assigned ;  little  dreaming  how  busy 
some  of  them  had  been,  in  the  concoction  of  schemes,  which,  if 
in  character  not  unlike  his  own,  were  scarcely  such  as  were 
congenial  with  his  authority  or  his  desires.  But  these  are  mat 
ters  for  the  future. 

Though  resolved  on  crossing  the  river,  yet,  as  the  chosen 
"erry  lay  several  miles  below,  it  became  necessary  to  sound  to 
Dorse;  and,  about  dusk,  the  troop  was  again  put  in  motion,  and 
continued  on  their  route  till  midnight. 

They  had  compassed  but  a  moderate  distance  in  this  space  of 
time,  moving  as  they  did  with  great  precaution  ;  slowly  of  course, 
as  was  necessary  while  traversing  a  country  supposed  to  be  in 
the  full  possession  of  an  enemy,  and  over  roads,  which,  in  those 
days,  were  neither  very  distinct,  n<>r  fairly  open,  n<>r  in  the.  best 
condition.  They  reached  the  ferry,  but  halted  for  the  remainder 
of  the  night  without  making  any  effort  to  cross. 

At  the  dawn  of  day,  Mary  Clarkson,  still  seemingly  a  boy, 
was  one  of  the  first,  stealing  along  the  bank  «>f  the  river,  to 
remark  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  prospect  which  on  every  .vide 
opened  upon  her  eye.  The  encampment  <>f  the  I'.lark  Kii!n, 
had  been  made  along  the  river  bluff,  but  sufliciently  rein 
from  its  edge  to  yield  the  requisite  degree  of  woodland  shelter. 
The  Spot  chosen  fur  the  purp<»e  was  a  ridge  unusually  elevated 
for  that  portion  of  the  stream,  which  is  commonly  skirted  by  a:i 
alluvial  bottom  of  the  richest  swamp  undergrowth,  This,  on 


A    (JLIMI'SK    OF    IUIIKR    PARK. 

either  hand,  lay  below,  while  tl  in  ling  upon  its  way  in 

the   foreground,  was   as  meek   and   placid  as  if  it  never  knew 
!.'  or  interruption. 

!'iit  a  few  miles  above,  how  constant   had   hcen   it- 
with  the  rocks  —  how  unceasing  its  warring  clamors.     But  a  fe\v 
>f  these  obstructions,  and  tl  •  obstructions  in  appeal. 

only ,  occurred  immediately  at  the  point  before  us;  and  tl 
home    down    by  the  violence   of  the    conflict   carried   on   a' 
might   seem  rather  the  trophies  of  its  own  triumph,  which  the 
river  brought  away  with  it  in  its  downward  ;  —  terviug 

rather  to  overcome  the.  monotony  of  its  surface,  and  increase  the 
picturesque  of  its  prospect,  than  as  offering  any  new  obstacle, 
-  provoking  to  any  farther  strife.  Its  waters  broke  with  a 
gentle  violence  on  their  rugged  tops,  and  passed  over  and  around 
them  with  a  sli^Jit  murmur,  which  was  quite  as  clearly  a  ir.nr- 
mur  of  merriment  as  «»ne  of  annoyance. 

'•uml,  the-  foliage  grew  .-till  in  primitive  simplicity.  Tl,<  re, 
the  long-leafed  pine,  it>clf  the  evidence  of  a  foivM  ninlishonored 
by  tl:  .'red  its  lofty  brow.  soaring  and  stooping,  a  giant 

domain.      About  him,  not  inferior  in  pride  and  ma- 
:igli  perhaps  inferior  in  height,  wen;  a  numerous  growth 
D  the  varieties  common   to  the   region;  —  tributary, 
.r  be  to  Strength,  were  the  rich  and  vari 
ous  hu,..s  of  the  hay,  the   poplar,  the  d«ig\vouil,  and   the   red    bud 
"f  tl.  18  —  all  growing  and  blooming  in  a  profligate  luxu- 

:ed    and    unemployed,  as   if  the    tastea    <-f  the 
bifl  benevolence,  found  their  own  suf- 

ticient  exercise    in    the  conteinju.-.tloii  ,,f  such  a  treasure,  tl, 
man  him-eh'  \\.-ic  Qevei  !••  be  created  for  its  future  enjovn; 
Hut  U-yi-nd  la-.  t  in  which  art.'  '-npi-rati: 

.1  i,  had  proved    hei>eif  a    <! 

•chingac  tream,ihe 

jiroi;«!  baronial  pi''r  .  ,ii:a  —  tl:« 

of  o.  it -lived   noliility  —  broad  lie! 

lawns,  green  :  way  into  the  embrace  of  the  br.i\\n 

BDS  —  mot  ;  >olcnin  .  .<\  iu 

the  \vn  of  a  gently 

ilopinghill,  one  of  :;ih-  lai-ricsol'the  • 


174  THE   SCOUT. 

time,  which  our  ancestors  devised   to  answer  the  threefold  pur 
poses  of  the  dwelling,  the  chapel,  and  the  castle  for  defence. 

There,   when   (lie   courage    of  the    frontier-men    first    broke 
ground,  and  took  possession,  among  the  wild  and  warlike  hunt- 
>f  the  Santee,  the  Congaree,  and  the  Saluda,  did  the  gallant 
General  Middleton   plant   his   towers,  amidst   a   region  of  great 
perils,  but  of  great  natural  beauty.     With  fearless  soul,  he  united 
an  exquisite  taste,  and  for  its   indulgence  he  was   not   unwilling 
to  encounter  the   perils   of  the    remote  wilderness  to  whir! 
went.     Perhaps,  too,  the  picturesque  of  the  scen'cry  was  height 
ened  to  his  mind  by  the  dangers  which  were    supposed   to   envi 
ron  it;  and  the  f< -rest  whose  frowning  shades  discouraged  must 
others,  did  not  lose  any  of  its  attractions  in  his  sight,  1 
sometimes  tasked   him    to   defend    his   p<  hy  the  Btl 

arm  and  the   ready   weapon.     The   bear  disputed  with  hii,. 
possession  of  the  honey-tree  ;   and    the    red   man,  starting  up,  at 
evening,  from  the  thicket,  not  unfreqiiently  roused  him  with  his 
fearful  halloo,  to  betake  himself  to  those  defences,  which  made 
his  habitation  a  fortress  no  less  than  a  dwelling. 

But  these,  which  are  difficulties  to  the  slothful,  and  terrors  to 
the  timid,  gave  a  zest  to  adventure,  which  sweetens  enterprise 
in  the  estimation  of  the  brave;  and  it  did  not  lessen  the  value 
of  Brier  Park  to  its  first  proprietor  because  he  was  sometimes 
driven  to  stand  a  siege  from  the  red  men  of  the  Congaree. 

But  the  red  men  disappeared,  and  with  them  the  daring  ad 
venturer  who  planted  his  stakes,  among  the  first,  in  the  bos.nn 
of  their  wild  possessions.  He,  too,  followed  thorn  at  the  ap 
pointed  season;  and  his  proud  old  domains  fell  into  the  hands 
of  gentler  proprietors.  Under  the  countenance  of  her  venerable 
grandmother,  Flora  Middleton  —  truly  a  rose  in  the  wilderness 
--blossomed  almost  alone;  at  a  time  when  the  region  in  which 
the  barony  stood,  was  covered  with  worse  savages  than  r.ven-the 
Congarees  had  been  in  the  days  of  their  greatest  lie- 

But  the  besom   of  Avar  —  which    swept   the   country   as   with 
flame  and  sword  —  had  paused   in   its  ravages   at    this  \ 
threshold.      "With  whig  and  tory  alike,  the  name  of  old  (Jem-ral 
Middleton,  the   patriarch   of  the   Congaree   country,   v 
equally  gacred; — and  the  lovely  granddaughter  who  inherited 


\  IT  " 

•  •lie    and    a    rebel, 
to    hold    her    •  j.inions  without   pa; 

'.ties   which,  in   tin  '  0   <>f 

. y  liki-ly  to  incur. 

this  general  condition  of  imlul- 

8  illicit  occasionally  take  place.  Sometimes  a  marauding 
nl  upon  tlic  hen-roost,  or  made  a  bolder  foray  into 
1  and  st.  ;  Imt  th.  depredations 

•sunk  out  oi'  si^lit   in   comparison  \\ith   the  general  state 
•  v  ami  robbery  which  prevailed  evcryv,  here  e! 

Bfl   to    which    the    inhahitants   of 

.hjcct,  an ist'   from  the   involuntary  hospitality 

•impelled   to   exercise   inward   the  enemies  ot 

country.      Flora  Middlcton  had  heen  forced  to  receive  with 

iablc"  Cornwallis,  and  the  brutal  Fergu- 
aml  to  li.-ti'ii  %\i:h  Complacency  tO  WOrdfl  of  softened  cor,. 
and  compliment  from  lips  which  had  just  before  commanded 

:  her  countrymen,  innocent  of  all   ofh 

lit  that  of  defending,  with   the   spirit   of  manhood   and   filial 
v,  hicb  jravu  them  birth.      The    njually  san-uiiiary 
•«  in    Rawdon  —  the    savant-    Tai'.eton,  and    the 
tanningham,  had   also  been   her  uninvited 
•  whom  she  had  dour  the,  honors  of  the   house  with  the 
i  spirit  natural  to  her  name  and  education,  but  nev. 
tin-  expriiM-  oi'  her  patriotism. 

.  .ra,"  was  the   phrase  with  which  —  with  un- 
d   urbanity   of  t»  mprr,   J.ord   OornwaHifl   was  wont   to 

J    t.thrr  way — the  : 

.!  sentiments,      'i'hese   ihfl    declared  with  eijual 
and  firmness,  whenever  th< 

;    and,  keen  as  mi-lit  1  uith  it  its  own 

;i  the  quiet,  subdr.etl,  ladylike  tone,  in  which  it  was  ut- 

;.  and    the    courteous  manner  \\\  •  irace 

and  :  :ay   vi«»l./  laus  with   impunity,  and  praise- 

n  >i  |  .t,  will  still  follow  the  offender. 

was  the  happy  fortune  .-I'  Flora  Middlrtnn  —  one  oi'  those 

•>f  Carol-na,  W\  :i!imrnt,  pride 

and  patriotism,  Acknowledged  equal,  ud  and  foe,  exer- 


17'.)  THE   SCOUT. 

cised  a  wondrous  influence  over  the  events  of  the  war,  which  is 
yet  to  lie  put  on  record  in  a  becoming  manner. 

The  poor  outcast,  Mary   Chirksim  —  a    beauty,  also,  ,, 
time,  I:  her  rustic  sphere,  and  <me  whose  sensibilities  had 
unhappily  heightened   by  the  very  arts  employed  by  be-  - 
cer  to  effect  her  ruin  —  gazed,  with  a  mournful  sentiment  ol 
isfaction,  at  the  sweet  and  picturesque  beauty  of  the  scene.    Al 
ready  was  she.  beginning  to  lose  herself  in  that  dreamy  lan^'i"' 
of  thought  which    hope   itself   .suggests   to   the   unhappy   as    .' 
means  to  escape  from  wo,  when  she  found  her  reckless  beh. 
suddenly  standing  by  her  side. 

"Ha,  Mary,  you  are  on  the  look-out,  I  see — you  have  :\ 
taste,  I  know.  What  think  you  of  the  plantations  opposite  1 
See  how  beautifully  the  lawn  slopes  up  from  the  river  to  the 
foot  of  the  old  castle,  a  glimpse  of  whose  gloomy,  frowning  \  is- 
age,  meets  your  eye  through  that  noble  grove  of  water  oakj 
that  link  their  arms  across  the  passage  and  conceal  two  third:.  — 
no  less  —  of  the  huge  fabric  to  which  they  lead.  There  uo\v,  to 
the  right,  what  a  splendid  field  of  corn  —  what  an  ocean  of  pvm 
leaves.  On  the  left  do  you  see  a  clump  of  oaks  and  sycamores 
—  there,  to  itself,  away  —  a  clo^e,  dense  clump,  on  a  little  hil 
lock,  itself  a  sort  of  emerald  in  the  clearing  around  it.  There 
stands  the  vault  —  the  tomb  of  the  Middleton  family.  Old  Mid- 
dleton  himself  sleeps  there,  if  he  can  be  said  to  sleep  at  all  ;  for 
they  tell  strange,  stories  of  his  nightly  rambles  after  wolves  and 
copper-skins.  You  may  see  a  small  gray  spot,  like  a  chink  of 
light,  peeping  out  of  the  grove  —  that  is  the.  tomb.  It  is  a  huge, 
f-tjuare  apartment  —  1  have  been  in  it  mor*  than  once  —  partly 
beneath  and  partly  above  the  ground.  It  has  hid  many  more 
living  than  it  Avill  ever  hold  dead  men.  I  owe  it  thanks  for 
more  than  one  concealment  myself." 

"  You  ?" 

"Yes!  I  have  had  a  very  comfortable  night's  rest  in  it,  all 
things  considered  ;  and  the  probability  is  not  small  that  we  .shall 
take,  our  sleep  in  it  to-night.  How  like  yon  the  pm-pi-ct  .'" 

The  girl  shuddered.  lie  did  not  care  f«>r  any  other  answer, 
but  proceeded. 

"In   that   oil    cage    of  Middleton   there  is  a  bird  of  sweetest 


A  (  177 

song,  whom   I  would   sot   five.     1  ><>   you 

, 

The.  girl  confessed  her  iguoran 
••Yon   are   dull.  Mary,  !  ut  you   shall  grow  • 

Knough  for  tho  present.      We   mu-t   BCt  the  tl  ,      -A 

short  mile  below  and  we  find   our  crossing  pb'ce.  and  then — 
hark  yo;;,  Mary,  you   i:  out   to-night.      If 

•hief  yesterday,  it  is  not  yet  cured.     There,  is  moro 
{••-day.      I  shall  expert  you  to  watch  to-night,  while  I  ; 

II. •  chuckled  at  the  pacing  attempt  at  |  wit,  in  which, 

him  justice,  lie  did  not   often   indulge,  and   the   pop 
uhich  his  companion  did  r,:>t  perceive;   then  continued  — 

••  Perhaps  it  should   he  'prowl'  rather   than  watch.     Though, 
to  prowl  well  requires  the  best  of  watching.     You  must  do 
You  j>rutcl  while  I  prey —  do  you  understand  ?" 

He  had   given  a  new  form  to   his   phrase,  by  which   hi-   made 
his  humor  obvious;   and,  satisfied  with   this,  he   proceeded  ; 

usly — 

"(live    up    your   dumps,  girl.      It  will   not   be    the  v. 
you   that  things  turn  out  to   please  me.     These  most 

.nd  I  can  now  trust   none  to  watch   them  but  \ 

At  this  confession,  her  reproachful  :;-ncd  full 

.iy  upon  him.      He  had  betrayed  the  trust  of  the  only  ' 
in  whom    he  could    place   his  own.      What  a  coinnn  ntary  on  his 
crime,  on  his  cruel   indifference   to  the  victim  .fit!      He  saw  in 
the  meaning  which  her  lips  did  not  •: 

be    said  ;    "  and  w. 
this,  and    they   must    expect    it.      Born    to    be    dr; 

that  we   fii.pl.y   y,   i  ;   and    If  v 
fewer  and   humbler,   your    chance    for   happ'n. 

Content   yourself  now  with    th  !"ii    thai 

have  a  share  in    i  and   all  will  g 

.    man  are    I  '   the  frail  and  un- 

•i  all 
,  that  1«.\ 

\>  veiy  well  for  boj  but  it  fur: 

nor  the  tor    manhood.      If  '.:,  you   1!. 


178  THE    SCOUT. 

vain.      Your  food  must  lie  the  menu-;  ir  1'onner 

Let  it  satisfy  you,  Mary,  that  I  loved  you  once." 

"  Never,  Ed  ward  —  you  never  loved  me;  not  even  when  my 
confidence  in  your  love  lost  me  the  love  «>f  all  other  persons. 
This  knowledge  1  have  learned  by  knowing  how  1  have  nn 
loved,  and  by  comparing  my  feelings  with  the  signs  of  ION  > 
you.     In  learning  to  know  how  little  I  have  been  loved,  I  made 
the  discovery  of  your  utter  incapacity  to  love." 

"And  why,  pray  you?"  he  demanded,  with  some  pique. ;  but 
the  girl  did  not  answer.  lie  saw  her  reluctaiice,  and  framed 
another  question. 

"  And  why,  then,  after  this  discovery,  do  you  still  love  me, 
and  cling  to  me,  and  complain  of  me  ?" 

"  Alas  !  1  know  not  why  1  love  you.  r\  hat,  indeed,  is  beyond 
me  to  learn.  I  have  sought  to  know  —  I  have  tried  to  think  — 
1  have  asked,  but  in  vain,  of  my  own  mind  and  heart  1  cling 
to  you  because,  1  can  cling  nowhere  else;  and  you  have  yourself 
said  that  a  woman  is  a  dependant  —  she  must  cling  somewhere  ! 
The  vine  clings  to  the  tree  though  it  knows  that  all  its  heart  iy 
rotten.  As  for  complaint,  God  knows  1  do  not  come  to  make,  it 
—  1  do  not  wish,  but  I  can  not  help  it.  I  weep  and  moan  from 
weakness  only,  I  believe,  and  1  shall  soon  he  done  moaning." 

"Enough  —  I  see  which  way  you  tend  now.  You  are  foolish, 
Mary  Clarkson,  and  war  with  your  own  peace.  Can  you  n- 
be  reconciled  to  what  is  inevitable  —  what  you  can  no  longer 
avoid?  Make  the  best  of  your  condition  —  what  is  done,  can't 
be  amended  ;  and  the  sooner  you  show  me  that  you  can  yield 
yourself  to  your  fate  with  some  grace,  the  more  certain  and 
will  be  the  grace  bestowed  in  turn.  You  are  useful  to  me,  Mary  ,- 
and  as  women  arc  useful  to  men  —  grown  men,  mark  me  —  so  do 
they  value,  them.  When  I  say  •useful,'  remember  the  word  is 
a  comprehensive  one.  You  may  be  useful  in  love,  in  the  pro 
motion  of  fortune,  revenge,  ambition,  hope,  enterprise  —  a  thou- 
;  things  and  objects,  in  which  exercise,  will  elevate  eijualiy 
your  character  and  condition.  Knough,  now.  You  must  sho\v 
your  usefulness  to-night.  1  go  on  :;  business  of  peril,  and  1 
Must  go  alone.  Hut  1  will  take;  you  with  me  a  part  of  the  \\ay. 
a:id  out  of  sight  </  the  encampment  To  the  encampir.eiM 


40  <»K    IIRTEU    !'ARK.  179 

must  return.  :  and  with    such    pi  keep  un- 

:;-ther —  your  talents  clearly 

lie  t!  business —  ,1    sort   of  sickne 

perhaps  the  natural  e«.inplaint  of  overgrown  babies  of  hoth  sexes, 
with  caudle    ami    put  t<  after 

as  possible.      D«>  you  h--;;r,  chihl  /      !).»  you  understand?" 
Thus  substantially  ended  tli:>  conference —  the  singula: 
of  which,  and  the  relation    between  the   parties,  ean  only  h. 

iidence  in 

which  the  unhappy  jrirl    stood  to   her   hetrayer.      She  was  hujn-- 

:iy  change  of  fortune  —  ^ht-    knew  not  where   to  turn  — 

:.'»w  had    mi    other  to  which    she    mi^ht   prom, 

..      She   rcmemheivd   the   huinhler  love  of  John   Bannister 

with  a  siirh  —  the   r<>,,f  and    the    ail'rctioiis   of  her   father  with   a 

thrill,  which    carried    a    cold    horror   through   all    her   veins.      A 

natural  instinct  turned  her  to  the   only  one  upon  whom  she  had 

i-lniin  —  a  claim  still  indisputable,  though  it  might  be  scorned 

hy  him  ;   and,  without    1-eing  satisfied   of  the  truth  <-f 

-  willing,  as  he  required,  to  he  useful,  that 

tten. 

Whil--  j.  was  preparing  to  CfOtt  the  liver,  it  wa>  joined, 

:«»  the  surpriM  y  and  the  eliagrin  of  its  commander, 

by  the  refractory  lieutenant,  Stockton. 

Lie  related    the    events  which    occurred  to   him    somewhat  dif- 
;tly  from  the  truth.      According    to  his  version  of  : 

I    to  \\hoin    he    had    been    h, trusted  was  attacked    i 

:en,  and    prol-ably  -lain  —  he    himselt 

ably  escaping  to  tell    the  story.  •  !  1>V  himself  and 

is  that  his  oaiTOlV  (—.-ape   and    \  duty 

«'i>ul  iience    in    the    eye    «.f  the  chief,  and   prohahlv 

.:n  from  all   the  consequences   threatened   in  !. 

•    the    latter  wrafl    t-.o  j.-ahms  of  the    di>artecti..n    prevailing 
Midi-lit  in    the  beneficial  iuiiueiu 

:    a  hair  in  the 

exercise  of  his  authori:  tor  a 

close  \m> 
»i»d  i  ;  .-half  bv 


>UT. 

soiuo  of  tho  tempori/ers — :;  f  whom  the  Black 

;•  human  community,  had  a  lair  propor- 

'1'i  \  tho  Middleton  1 

thicket  in  th.-  .:ul  on  the 

.  hoson    tor   their   bivouac;   ami   their  .mi 

ni   casual   observation,  the    chief  of  the    l'lac\ 
with   his  dark   banditti,  awaited  till   the  approach  of  night,  in  a 
condition  of  becoming  quiet.     Ho   then    prepare.; 

his   expedition   to   the    barony;   ami  it  was  v. 
though  \vith"V  :»  of  the  cause,  that  M;; 

;'orecivod.  on  his  -  it,  that  he  hail   discarded  all  his 

-.,1  had  really  been  pa\  '  little  u;;- 

D  to   the  arts  of  the  toilet.     The  black  ai. 

heard    and    whiski-  OH1   hy    the    troo; .  — a 

moo  of  \\liich  had  fallen   into  the  hands  of  Supple 

.1  previov.-  :i  —  had    disappeared   from   h'^   face; 

his  sable  uniform  had  jriven  place  to  a  \vell-iittini:  suit  of  becom- 

l,  of  the    costume   of  the   troop,  nothing   remained 

but  the  dark  belt  which  encircled  hi- 

Marv  rlaikson  was  not  naturally  a  suspicious  person,  nor  of  a 
jealous   temper;  and  tho  lirst  observation  which   noticed   ; 
cha'.  ,  en  a  surmise   in   relation  to  their  oh- 

joet.      S'..  'i   his   intimation  to  follow  him  as  he   prepared 

ke   his  departure;  and,  availing  herself  of  the  nioine! 

-uch  of  the  band  as  were  about  her  at  the  moment, 
away  and  joined  him  at  a  little  distance  from  the  camp, 

<  1   his  instructions   as  to   the   game  whic: 
.  her  to  play. 

The  quiet  in  \\hich  Morton  had  left  his  followers  did  not  lon$ 
C  his  departure.     The  insubordinates  availed  them- 

:h   in  a  1 

than  they  had   1 «  . 

tumultuously,  nished    upon    the    guard    to   whom    Stockton    had 

.  overawing   all    opposition    by   their 
.ior  mini'-  1  him  from  his  bonds. 

Ensign  1  '  the  leader  of  this  party.      lie  had  found  it 

uo  cliOi'ulty  to   unite   them  in  a  measure  which   they  boldly  a> 


A  «.  :  PARK.  181 

§mr;  iled  at  a  gpecies  of  tyranny 

to  which  ibrnit.     Disaffection  had  ?j 

.ton  imagiwd. 

:   made  them  forgetful  of  'es,  as  well  as 

I;       :;tly,  their  spoils   had   been  few  and 
.:it  and  severe,  and  their  dangers 
gre-  things  inclined   them  all,  in  a  grea* 

»  be  dissatisfied ;  and  nothing  is  so  easy  to  vulgar 
power  which  governs,  all  the  evils 
• 

j  Availed  t!  his  natural 

teiui  irt.    The  more  ignorant /aid  unthink 

ing  were  taught  t  :hat  their  chief  had  mismanaged  in  a 

•irse  of  conduct  would  have 
lie  had  operated  on  the  "Wateree 
-          and  the  Saluda  offered  the 
culiar  practi 

:he  cold-blooded  Morton  had 

given  in  chai  _  _••  which  he  now  kept  upon 

of  secret  consultation  at  a  mo- 

mei.:  is  enough  fur  the  objects  of  her  watch.     The\ 

assembled— -thai  is,  Ouch  of  the  band  (and  this  involved  a  ma- 
rebel  against  their  present  lead- 
c  a  rivulet  which  passed  from  the 
the  swamp.     lieic  they  had  kindled 

a  small   :  _'h  to  give   light  to   their  d  eh  be  rations ;  had 

lighted   i.  s,  and,  from   their  canteens,  were  seasoning 

lisite  degree  and  \. 
1  precautions  which  is  apt  to  follow 
m   the  usual  restraints  of  authority, 
••  sentries  around  their  place  of  con- 
••rt  the  aj  -tile  foot.-- 

i  at  the  beginning,  they  had   1 
be  debate  and  the  drink  to  leave 

'.:\i  their  comrades. 

Ma  h    -r.iig 

of  all  their  deK  \  itli  exemplary  forbearance 

tnd  u  .cd,  did  not  take  much 


182  HIE  SCOUT 

part  in  the  proceedings.  Ensign  Darcv,  howe\  er,  was  faithful 
to  his  old  professions,  an'l  was  the  principal  speaker.  H<-  it  was 
who  could  best  declare  what,  in  particular,  had  heen  (he  omis 
sions  of  the  chief;  and  }>y  what  mistakes  lie  had  led  the  troop 
from  point  to  point,  givi'ig  them  no  rest,  little  loud,  and  h. 
sing  them  with  constant  dangers  and  alarms. 

The  extent  of  his  information   surprised   the  faithful  li. 
and  informed  her  aJeo  of  some  matters  which  sne  certainly  did 
*>ot  expect  to  hear. 

Davcy  was  supported  chiefly  by  the  huge  fellow  already 
known  hy  the  name  of  Barton  —  the  same,  person  who  had  led 
the  insuhordinates  in  Muggs'  cabin,  when  Edward  Morton,  at 
the  last  moment,  sprang  up  to  the  rescue  of  his  kinsman.  This 
ruffian,  whose  violence  then  had  offered  opposition  to  his  leader, 
and  could  only  be  suppressed  by  the  show  of  an  equal  violence 
on  the  part  of  the  latter,  had  never  been  entirely  satisfied  with 
himself  since  that  occasion.  He  wa-  one  of  those  humble- 
minded  persons  of  whom  the  world  is  so  full,  who  are  always 
asking  what  ibeir  neighbors  think  of  them  ;  and  being  a  sort  of 
braggart  and  bully,  he  was  annoyed  by  a  consciousness  of  hav 
ing  lost  some  portion  of  the  esteem  of  his  comrades  by  the 
comparatively  easy  submission  which  he  then  rendered  to  his 
leader.  This  idea  haunted  him,  and  he  burned  for  some  oppor 
tunity  to  restore  himself  in  their  wonted  regards.  Dairy  dis 
covered  this,  and  worked  upon  the  fool's  frailty  to  such  a 
degree,  that  he  was  persuaded  to  take  the  lead  in  the.  work  of 
mutiny,  and  to  address  his  specious  arguments  to  those  doubtful 
persons  of  the  gang  whom  the  fox-like  properties  of  the  t  : 
would  never  have  suffered  him  directly  to  approach.  Their 
modes  of  convincing  the  rest  were  easy  enough,  since  their  ar 
guments  were  plausible,  if  not  true,  and  there  was  some  founda 
tion  f'ov  many  of  the  objections  urged  against  their  present  com 
mander. 

"Here,  for  example,"  said  Dairy;   "here  he  comes  to  play 
the    lover    at    Middleton    place.      He    dodges    about    the    young 
woman  when    it   suits  him  ;   and   either  we  follow  him  here,  and 
hang  about  to  keep  the   rebels   from    his  skirts,  or  he  lea\  . 
where    we   neither   hear   nor   see    anything   of  him   for  weeks. 


THK    OAtfl     <>K    Till'    I.,  .-Kits  1  - 

.while,   we   can    do    nothing —  we    dare    not    move   without 
him  ;   and  if  we  do  any  creditable  tiling,  \\  hat's  the  coiiMMjur: 
Lieutenant    Stockton    there    can    tell    you.      He's  knocked  . 
like  a  bullock,  and  arrested — is   attacked    by  the   rebels,  make* 
a    narrow   escape,    conies    hark    like    a    -"oil    soldier,   and    is    put 
under  arrest  again,  as  it'  no  punishment  was  enough  for  showing 
the  spirit  of  a  man." 

••  All,  yes,  that  wa'n't  right  of  the   captain;''   said   one   of  the 
fellows,  with  a  conclusive  shake  of  the  head. 

••  Yes  ami  all  that  jist  after  the  lieutenant   had   hecn  husy  foi 
live  days,  through   storm  and  rain,  looking  after  him  only," 
the  addition  of  another. 

••  It's  a  God's  truth,  for  sartin,  the  captain's  a  mighty  changed 
man  now-a-days,"  said  a  third. 

••  He  ain't  the  same  person,  that's  a  d'ar,"  was  the  conviction 
of  a  fourth  ;   and  so  on  through  the  talc. 

\nd  who's  going  to  stand  it?"  cried  the  fellow  Barton,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  shivering  the  pipe  in  his  hand  by  a  stroke 
upon  the  earth  that  startled  more  than  one  of  the  doubtful. 

••  I'll  tell  you  what,  men  —  there's   no   use    to   beat  about   the 
bush  when  the  thing  can  be   made    plain    to   every  men's  onder- 
htandiiig.      Here  it  is.      We're   in    a   mighty  bad   fix   at    pi- 
any  how;   and   the  chance   is  a  great  deal  w<  Dg   tfl  \\  e 

stand  here.      Here,  the  whigs  are  tjuite   too  thick   for   us   to  deal 
with.      It's  either,  we  must  go  np  to  the  mountains  or  get  down 
toward    the    seaboard.      I'm    told    tin- 
But    here    \\e'\e    mighty  nigh   cleaned   out    the    crib; — tl. 
preri'.u^  little  left.      What'.-    to    keep    us    here.   1    ra:i't    Me;    hut 

s  Captain   Morton    here.      II.''-  after 

this    gal    of  Middleton's  ;    and    he'll    stay,  and    peep,  and    d 
and  con,-  .  until  he  gits  his  own    neck    in    the    halter, 

may-be   our'n  too,      NOW.  it'  yuYe  of  my  mind,  we'll  leave  him 
to  his  gal  and  all    he  can  get    by  her.  and    take    hor>,.    thi- 
night,  and   find   our  way  along  the   Sahidah,  up    : 
That's   my  notion;   and,  as   a   beginning,  I'm  wil! 
the  fint,  let   Han  ,  "ur  captain  from  the  jump." 

•;lv,   soft!.  iid    the    more    \vil\  "  thaJ 

<uui  hardly  be,  u:de-s  you  im-aii    to    pn!   the  ;_  I    Ninety- 


184  THK   SCOUT. 

Six  at  defiance  also.  You'll  find  it  110  easy  matter  to  show  a 
king  s  commission  for  the  lieutenant ;  and  it'll  be  something 
wr>rs3  if  Ned  Morton  faces  you  just  at  the  moment  when  Bal- 
four,  or  Rawdon,  or  Stuart,  or  Cruger,  has  you  under  examina 
tion.  No,  no  !  There's  no  way  of  doing  the  thing,  unless  you 
can  show  them  that  Ned  Morton's  a  dead  man  or  a  traitor.  Now, 
then,  whifh  shall  it  he?" 

"Both  !"  roared  Barton.  "  I'm  for  the  dead  man  first.  Wr 
can  go  in  a  hody  and  see  for  ourselves  that  he's  done  up  for  this 
world,  and  we  can  go  in  the  same  hody  to  Cruger  at  IJinety- 
Six  and  show  that  we  want  a  captain,  and  can't  find  a  hetter 
man  than  Harry  Stockton." 

"But  he  ain't  dead,"  said  one  of  the  more  simple  of  the 
tribe. 

"  Who  says  he  ain't?"  growled  the  ruffian  Barton  —  "when 
1  say  he  is]  lie's  dead  —  dead  as  a  door  nail;  and  we'll 
prove  it  before  we  go  to  Cruger.  Do  you  suppose  I'm  going 
with  a  lie  in  my  mouth  ?  We  must  make  true  what  we  mean 
to  say." 

"  You're  right,  Barton,"  quietly  continued  Darcy  ;  "  but  per 
haps  'twould  be  well,  men,  to  let  you  know  some  things  more. 
Nu\v,  you  must  know  that  Middleton  place  has  been  let  alone, 
almost  the  only  house,  since  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Old 
MioMleton  was  a  mighty  great  favorite  among  the  people  of  all 
then-  parts  when  he  was  living;  and  Lord  Cornwallis  hearing 
that,  he  gave  orders  not  to  do  any  harm  to  it  or  the  people  liv- 
there.  Well,  as  they  were  women  only,  and  had  neither 
faihor,  brother,  nor  s»n,  engaged  in  the  war,  there  was  no  provo- 
ration  to  molest  them;  and  so  things  stand  there  as  quietly  as 
they  did  in  'seventy-five.'  In  that  house,  men,  there's  more 
good  ol-.l  stamped  plate  than  you'll  find  in  half  the  country.  1 
reckon  you  may  get  ban-els  of  it,  yet  not  have  room  for  all. 
\Yt-:i.  there's  the  jewels  of  the  women.  It's  a  guess  of  mine 
only,  but  I  reckon  a  safe  one,  when  I  say  that  I  have  no  doubt 
you'll  find  jewels  of  Flora  Middleton  enough  to  help  every  man 
of  us  to  the  West  Indies,  and  for  six  months  after.  Now.  it's  a 
question  whether  we  let  the  captain  carry  off  this  girl  with  all 
her  jewels,  or  whether  we  come  in  for  a  share.  It's  my  notion 


THK    0  \  Pfl    OP    THI-:    I'.I.ACK    P.TI'!  1  << 

it's  flint  lie's  aiming  at      lit4  don't  care  a  t'.g  what  becomes  of  us 
if  he  can  carry  of}'  this  plunder,  and  this  is  the  secret   of  all  his 
doings.      I  know  lie's  half  mad  after  the  girl,  and  will  have  hor. 
though    lie   takes   her  with   his   claws.      I    move  that  wo  hv 
hand  in  the  business.    It's  but  to  steal  uj>  to  P»rior  Park,  got  round 
the  placo,  sound  a  rebel  alarm,  and   give   him   a  shot  while 
mining.     After   that,  the   work's  easy.     Wo   can  then 
upon  the  women  as  a  rebel  troop,  and  empty  the  closets  a; 
leisure." 

The  temptations  of  this  counsel  were  exceeding  great.  It 
was  received  without  a  dissenting  voice,  though  there  wore  sun 
dry  doubts,  yet  to  be  satisfied,  among  the  more  prudent  or  the 
more  timid. 

"  But  the  boy — that  strange  boy,  Henry.  He's  with  him. 
What's  to  be  clone  with  him  ?" 

Mary  Clarkson  had  been  a  breathless  listener  dining  the 
whole  of  this  conference.  Her  emotions  were  new  and  inde- 
.ihlo.  Heretofore,  strange  to  say,  vhe  had  never  entertained 
the  idea,  for  a  single  instant,  of  I'M  ward  Mort<m  loving  another 
woman.  She  had  never,  during  the  marau 
which  he  pursued,  beheld  him  in  any  situation  which  i 

ken  hor  female  fears.      \"'v,  the  unr  <mmunicati<m 

and    bold    assertion    of   Darcy,   awakened    a    novel    emotion    of 
pain  within  her  heart,  and  a  new  train  of  reflection  in  her  mind. 

"  This,  then,"  she    mu<ed    to    herself,   as  'lei-ted    the 

conversation  that  morning  with  hor  seducer  — "  tlr  the 

bird    that    he    spoke    «.f — the  sweet   singing-bird  in  th.v 

'  ich  ho  determine  : 

{ear.  no   thought    of  this!       Hut  ho  can  i  r  —  \->  ' 

ho  1:  li  natui-o.      \t    is    i:  [Q   f.i--  him   to  feel 

have  felt." 

She  strove  to  listen  again,  but  site  hoard  little  more,  !!••: 
mind  had  formed  a  vague  impro-<:  >n  o! 

i  with  in;  illy  vague  in  form,  but   far  morn  im- 

we.V 

of  that  1;  tO    think.  I'-T    | 

tl'.at  tl :••:•.•   • 


186  THE  SCOUT. 

but  their  suggestion  to  murder  the  criminal,  revived  in  all  its 
force,  if  not  her  old  passio*h,  at  least  her  habitual  feeling  of 
dependence  upon  him.  The  idea  of  losing  tor  ever  the  one 
who,  of  all  the  world,  she  could  now  seek,  was  one  calculated 
to  awaken  all  her  most  oppressive  fears;  and,  with  a  strong 
effort  at  composure,  she  now  bent  all  her  attention  to  ascertain 
what  were  the  precise  means  by  which  the  outlaws  proposed  to 
cfiect  their  objects.  The  farther  details  of  Dairy  enlightene-l 
hrr  on  this  head,  and  she  was  about  to  rise  from  her  lowly  posi 
tion  and  hiding-place,  and  steal  away  to  Brier  Place,  in  order 
to  awaken  Morton  to  his  danger,  when  the  inquiry  touching  her 
own  fate  commanded  her  attention. 

"What  of  the  boy,  Henry  — what  shall  be  done  with  him? 
I'm  thinking  lie's  the  one  that  reports  everything  to  the  cap 
tain.  What  shall  we  do  with  him  ?" 

"  Cut  his  throat,  to  be  sure.  He  is  no  use  to  any  of  us  ;  and 
if  we  silence  the  captain,  we  must  do  for  him  also.  I  reckon 
they're  together  now." 

"The  getting  rid  of  the  boy  is  a  small  matter,"  said  Dairy  ; 
"  let's  settle  about  the  principal  first,  and  the  rest  is  easily  man 
aged.  We  must  set  about  this  affair  seriously  — there  must  be 
no  traitors.  We  must  swear  by  knife,  bullet,  tree,  and  halter  — 
the  old  oath  !  —  there  must  be  blood  on  it !  Whose  blood  shall 
it  be?" 

"  Mine  !"  exclaimed  Barton,  as  he  thrust  forth  his  brawny  arn: 
to  the  stroke,  and  drew  up  the  sleeve.  Mary  Clarkson  was  still 
too  much  of  a  woman  to  wait  and  witness  the  horrid  ceremonial 
by  which  they  bound  themselves  to  one  another;  but  she  could 
l"ar  the  smooth,  silvery  voice  of  Dairy,  while  she  stole  away 
on  noiseless  feet,  as  h.-  severally  administered  the  oath,  upon  the 
Cashed  arm  of  the  confederate,  to  each  of  the  conspirators. 
Swear!" 

And  the,  single  rcsp«ms<'  of  the  first  ruffian,  as  he  ple.djrrd 
himself,  struck  terror  to  her  heart  and  gave  fleetness  to  her 
footsteps. 

"  By  knife,  cord,  tree,  and  bullet,  I    swear  to  be  true  t 
my  brothers,  in  this  business  ;  —if   !    fail  or  betray  you    then  !-i 
knife,  cord  tree,  or  bullet,  do  i^  n  ork  ! — 1  su 
L 


:  i;i:n:i;    P  [67 

The  ten'.  .slic  ll. -«1  :  hnt  even  then 

she    '  :  -what    .-lie   1,.  :' that  MBW66l  sing- 

itig  bird,  in  that   L  'to  hoth  of  which  she  was  now 

aching  with  an  equal  i-entiir.i-nt  of  curiosity  and  terror. 


('II  A  I'TKR    X  VII. 

!.     l.MYK     PASSAGES     AT    lU'.II.i:     I'AKK. 


M  KA\\VHII.K.  the  chief  of  the  1'laek  K'ulei^  jnirsiH-il  lii> 

•vay  to  the  scene  of  his  jin-jeded  nperations.     1'aniiliar  with 
rlie  neighborhood,  it  was  n<.»t  a  ditlicult  matter  for  him   to  make 

;th  .sntiicient  n  :i.nni^h  the  ^Icmii:- 

mute  liad  lieen  often  trodden  liy  him  liefoiv  —  often,  indeed. 
when  the  fai;  Mleton   !  :ned   nf  the   proximity 

,    \\hrn    imt    a    star    in    the    sky 
Mi'.il-  Ms  purj)(».-> 

'I'ht-  —  the  nigh*  was  without  a  cloud, 

nn!r  few   of  those   li^lit,  tieccy,  transparent  r- 

wliich   the   risinir  moon  I  ;t  1'n.m  her  j.er.-.n,  and 

which   ll  her  pathway   in   tributary  J-eauty  ;   ami 

th«   maiden  queen,  makiu-  lu-r  vtat.dy  pr. 

:     her    sil\> 

rii;kled,  I 
nt  dri-pp!-  glimmezing  and  kindred  Leauty  wit!. 

The    uimis   wen-   whi.-ht   or   sleeping.      The,   sacred 
ness  of  t!  iled    in   the   air  and  o\ 

:!'ird  flappetl  a  di> 

I.  ranches    which    overhung    its    nest,    or,    with    si; 
shrunk  from  t  _  through 

We:'-  'lie  purposes  of  the 

t  liiiu  on'-. 
While  he  pu;  nuliously 


188  THE   SCOUT. 

concealing  his  person  from  the  light,  other  and  nobler  spirit* 
were  abroad  enjoying  it.  Love,  of  another  sort  than  his,  was  no 
less  busy;  ami,  attended  hy  whatever  success,  with  a  spirit  far 
more  worthy  of  the  gentler  influences  which  prevailed  equally 
above  the  path  of  hoth. 

The  outlaw  reached  the  grounds  of  the  ancient  barony       IK 
had  almost  followed  the  course  «>f  the  river,  and  he  now  stor.d 
uj)on  its  banks.     Tl'is  path  lay  through  an  old  field,  now  aban 
doned,  which  was  partly   overgrown  by  the,  lob-lolly,  or  short- 
leafed  pine.     The  absence  of  undergrowth  made  his  pro- 
ea-y.     He  soon   found  himself  In-side  the  solemn   grove  which 
had  grown    up,   from    immemorial    time,    in    hallowed    security 
around  the  vaulted  mansion   in  which   slept   the   remains  »; 
\enerable  casiquc  of  Congaree  —  for  such  was  old  Middh 
title  of  nobility,     lie  penetrated  the  sacred  enclosure,  and,  as  he 
had  frequently  done  before,  examined  the  entrance  of  the  tomb, 
which  he  found  as  easy  as  usual. 

The  dead  in  the  wilderness  need  no  locks  or  bolts  for  their 
security.  There  are  no  resurrectionists  there  to  annoy  them. 
Edward  Conway  looked  about  the  vault,  but  there  he  did  not 
long  remain.  Pressing  forward,  he  approached  the  park  and 
grounds  lying  mere  immediately  about  the  mansion.  Here,  a 
new  occasion  for  caution  presented  itself.  He  found  soldiers 
on  duty  —  sentinels  put  at  proper  distances;  and,  fastened  to 
the  swinging  limbs  of  half  a  dozen  trees,  as  many  dragoon 
horses. 

He  changed  his  course  and  proceeded  on  another  route,  with 
the  hope  to  approach  the  dwelling  without  observation ;  but 
here  again  the  path  was  guarded.  The  watch  seemed  a  strict 
one.  The  sentinels  were  regular,  and  their  responses  so  timed, 
as  to  leave  him  no  prospect  of  passing  through  the  intervals  <-f 
their  rounds.  Yet,  even  if  this  had  been  allowed  him,  what 
good  could  be.  effected  by  it?  He  could  not  hope,  himself  un 
seen,  to  approach  the  person  he  sought.  Vet  he  lingered  ,-u.d 
watched,  in  the  eager  hope  to  see  by  whom  she  was  attended. 
What  guest  did  she  entertain  ? 

To  know  this,  his  curiosity  hr<  ,:me  intense.      Tie  would  prob 
*bly  have  risked   something  to  have  attained  this  knowledge 


LMt. 

but,  under  tlif  itch  which   ci  'he    habi- 

endeavor  promised  to  be  utterly  hopeless. 

:i,  after  a  vJiile,  drove    him   hack  to  the  tomb, 
with  D    his  lips  and  fury  in  his  heart.      He  VMS  art 

of  those   men  who  had   known   much,  or  had  learned  to  endur 
any  disappointment;   and   his  anger  and  anxiety  grew  alnn- 
:  vlien,  after  successive  and  frequent  attempts  to  fin  . 
to   the   house,  he  was  compelled  to   give,  up 
rt  in  despair. 

•  •mod  in  no  hurry  to  withdraw  ;   the  ligl 
dwelling   wn  •    and    numerous,      lie    fancied,  n. 

lie  continued   liis   survey,  that   he  could  hear  the  t 
Flora's   harpsichord,  as  the  winds  brought  the  sounds  in  the, 
required  direction.     The  twin  instincts  of  hate  and  jealousy  in 
formed  him  who  was  the  guest  of  the  maiden.     \Vho  could  it  he 
hut  Clarence  COM  way  —  that  kinsman  who   seemed  horn  ; 
his  hane  —  t"  whom   lie   ascribed   the  loss  of  property  and  posi 
tion  ;   heneath  whose   superior  virtue  his  spirit  quailed,  am! 

•  •f  whom   might,  in  truth,  b«  much  of 

and  dishonorable  practices  which,  so  far,  he  had 
almost  i'luitlessly  pursued.      His  was  the  jealousy  rather  of 
than  love.      Perhaps,  such  a  passion   as  the  latter.  •  g  to 

the  opinion  <  '  irksmi,  could  not  fill  th- 

Kdward  Morton.     But  he  had  hi-  ;  and 

tlie   denial   of  his  object  —  which,  to   himself,  he    dignilied   with 
the   name   of  ]nve  —  was  quite   enough   to  provoke  hiswra1' 
fren 

"  All.  all,  has  he    robbed   me   of!"  he    muttered    through    his 
•1  teeth.  —  "The  love  of  parents,  {!:••  ,  tlie 

attachment  of  inferiors,  the  wealth   of  kindred,  and    ti. 
woman.     lie  stole  from  me  the  smiles  of  my  iatl:> 

:.i   my  side;   the  rude  woodman,  whose   blind  but  E 
ful  attachment  was  that  of  the  hound,  abandoned  me  to  cling  to 
him;   r.nd  now!  —  but  I  am   not  sure  of  this!      He  is  not   | 
I  Middleton  has  said  nothing  i/ct  to  justify  b; 

:'  doubt  ii: 

> T  sex,  and  if  that  devil,  or  saint,  that 
not  root  up    1  •  .iraeulotis   in' 


190  THK    SCOOT. 

will  ye*  onng  forth  a  far  different  fruit  fnun  any  which  lie  now 
hopes  to  taste.  Let  her  hut  be  shy  and  haughty  —  let  him  hut 
show  himself  sensitive  and  indignant  —  and  all  will  1  -e  done. 
This  meeting  will  prove  nothing;  and  time  gained  now  is.  to 
,n«\  everything.  In  another  week,  and  I  ask  no  further  help 
'n>m  fortune.  If  I  win  her  not  hy  fair  word,  I  win  her  by  bold 
deeds;  and  then"!  brush  the  clay  of  the  Congarec  for  ever  from 
my  feet !  The  waves  of  the  sea  shall  separate  me  for  ever  from 
the  doubts  and  the  dangers,  numerous  and  troublesome,  which 
are  increasing  around  me.  This  silly  girl,  too,  whom  no  scorn 
can  drive  from  my  side — I  shall  then,  and  then  only,  he  fairlv 
rid  of  her !" 

He  threw  himself  on  the  stone  coping  which  surrounded  the 
vault,  and  surrendered  himself  up  to  the  bitter  meditations  which 
a  reference  to  the  past  life  necessarily  awakens  in  every  guilty 
bosom.  These  we  care  not  to  pursue;  but,  with  the  reader's 
permission,  will  proceed  —  without  heeding  those  obstructions 
which  drove  the  chief  of  the  Black  Riders  to  his  lurking-place 
in  the  vault  —  to  the  mansion  of  the  lovely  woman  whose  for 
tunes,  though  we  have  not  yet  beheld  her  person,  should  already 
have  awakened  some  interest  in  our  regards. 

The  instinct  of  hate  in  the  bosom  of  Edward  Morton  had  in 
formed  him   rightly.     The    guest   of  Flora    Middleton  was    his 
hated  kinsman.     He  had  readied  the  barony  that  very  evening, 
and  had  met  with  that  reception,  from  the  inmates  of  Brier  Park, 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  show  to  the  gen^emen  of  all 
parties  in  that  time  of  suspicion  and  cautious  policy.     The  grand 
mother  was  kind   and   good-natured   as  ever  ;   hut  Clarence 
in  Flora  Middleton,  or  fancied   that  he   saw,  an   air  of  Inn:., 
indifference,  which  her  eyes  sometimes  exchanged  for  one  of  a 
yet   more  decided   feeling.      Could    it    be   anger  that    Hashed   at 
moments  from  beneath  the   long  dark   eyelashes  of  that   1 
browed  beauty?      Was  it  indignation  that   gave  that  curl  to  her 
rich  and  rosy  lips  ;    and  made  her  tones,  ahva;.  final 

strain  of  music,  now  sharp,  sudden,  and  sometimes  harsh? 

The  eyes  of  Clarence  looked  more  than  once  the  inquiry 
which  he  knew  not  how  to  n>.;ke  in  any  other  way  ;  but  only 
once  did  the  dark-blue  orbs  of  Flora  encounter  h!>  foi  a  pro- 


AT   r.i;n:::  r.uiK. 

ill  ;    an-i   tl  wai 

r    that,   she    resolutely 

;   and    the  time,  f.r  an    hour  after  his  arrival, 

irtfl    pa-sed    by  liini    in  ••uhtful    solicitude;   ami    by 

Flora,  a*  he  could  not  help  thinking,  under  a  feel'r.  j  aiir 

ami  .  circumspection,  which  was    new  to  both  <>t    t: 

painful  in  the  1  bim.     All  the  freedom*  of  tlieii 

old  intercourse  had   given  way  to  cold,  stitV   formalities;   and,  in 

place   of  "Flora"  from    his   lips,  and  "Clarence"  from   hers,  tin 

forms  of  addn  rigid  and  ceremonious  between  thei. 

be  most    punctilious  disciplinarian   of  manners,  in  the    mo- 

•ious  srhool  of  the  puritans,  could  insist  upon. 
Flora  Middleton  was   rather  remarkable  than  heautiful.      She 
i  nolle    sjieeimen  of  the  An^lo-Norman  woman.      Qlowilig 
with    health,  hut    softened    hv  ^race  ;    warmed   l.y  love,  yet  not. 
obtrusive  in  her  earnestness.      Of  a  temper  »juick.  energetic,  and 
vet  too   pn.ud  to  deal  in  the  lan^ua^e  of  either  anjrer 
i.r  cMinj-laint  ;    too  d»-licate  in  her  o\vn  sensil.ilities  to  oiitra-c,  1-y 
:!ie   feelings  «.t'  others.      Livinir  at  a  time 

and  in  a  region,  where  life  was  full  of  serious  purposes  and  con 
tinual  trials,  she  was   superior   to   those    small    tastes  and    j 

which   disparage,  too   frequently,  the   understand- 
of  her   sex,  and  diminish,  unhappily,  its  acknowledged  im- 
nce  to  man  and  to  BOcietjT,      Her  thoughts  were  neithe 
nice  for,  nor  superior  to,  the  lni.-iness  ami  the  events  of  the  ' 
;  to  that  wonderful  race  of  Carolina  women.  I 
all  praise,  who  could  minister,  with  e^ual  propriety  and  MK 

iltars  for  which  their  fathers,  and   hushands.  and  hrntli- 
,t  —  who  could  tend  the  woumled,  m;  -k.  cheei 

,;spirited,  arm  the  warrior  for  the  field  —  nay,  sometini< 

ml  in  sudden  emergency,  and  make 

tie,  in   compliance  with   the   requisitions  of  the  soul,  nerved    hy 
tenderness,  and    love,  and    serious   duty,  to   the    most    maM-ulim* 

.  t'n.n.s  —  utterly   forgetful   of  those    eilem/ 

which  are  partly  due  to  oigani/ation  and  partly  to  the  arbitrary 
and.  too  fre<iuently.  injurious  la\\ 

In  Mich  circum>ta:  iiarai'terix.ed  \'. 

write,  women  as  well   M  melt  lx 


192  THK    SCOUT. 

every  kind.  The  ordinary  occupations  of  life  were  too  grave  to 
admit  of  them.  The  mind  threw  off  its  petty  humors  with  dis 
dain,  and  where  it  did  not,  the  disdain  of  all  other  minds  wad 
sure  to  attend  it.  Flora  never  knew  affectations  —  she  was  no 
fine  lady  —  had  no  humors  —  no  vegetable  life;  hut  went  on 
vigorously  enjoying  time  in  the  only  way,  by  properly  employ 
ing  it.  She  had  her  tastes,  and  might  he  considered  by  . 
persons  as  rather  fastidious  in  them  ;  but  this  fastidiousness  was 
nothing  more  than  method.  Her  love  of  order  was  one  of  her 
domestic  virtues.  But,  though  singularly  methodical  for  her 
she  had  no  humdrum  notions ;  and,  in  society,  would  have 
been  the  last  to  be  suspected  of  being  very  regular  in  any  of 
her  habits.  Her  animation  was  remarkable.  Her  playful  hu 
mor —  which  took  no  exceptions  to  simple  unrestraint  —  found 
no  fault  with  the  small  follies  of  one's  neighbor;  yet  never  tres 
passed  beyond  the  legitimate  bounds  of  amusement. 

That  she  showed  wone  of  tliis  animation  —  this  humor — on 
the  present  occasion,  was  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  Clarence 
Conway's  disquietude.  Restraint  was  so  remarkable  in  the  case 
of  one  whose  frank,  voluntary  spirit  was  always  ready  with  its 
musir,  that  he  conjured  up  the  most  contradictory  notions  to 
account  for  it. 

"  Are  you  sick  ?"  he  asked  •  "  do  you  feel  unwell  ?"  was  one 
of  his  inquiries,  as  his  disquiet  took  a  new  form  of  apprehension. 

"  Sick  —  no  !  What  makes  you  fancy  such  a  thing,  Colonel 
Conway  ?  Do  I  look  so  ?" 

"  Xo  ;  but  you  seem  dull — not  in  spirits — something  must 
have  happened — " 

"  Perhaps  something  has  happened,  Cousin  Clarence."  This 
was  the  first  phrase  of  kindness  which  reminded  Clarence  of  old 
times.  He  fancied  she  began  to  soften.  "Cousin  Clare: 
was  one  of  the  familiar  forms  of  address  which  had  been  adopted 
by  the  maiden  some  years  previously,  when,  mere  children,  they 
first  grew  intimate  together. 

"But  I  am  not  sick,"  she  continued,  "and  still  less  ou^ht  you 
to  i-i.nsider  me  dull.  Such  an  opinion,  Clarence,  would  annoy 
many  a  fair  damsel  of  my  acquaintance." 

She  was  evidently  thawing. 


SOME  LOVI:   i  A'I    I;I;IKI:   I'.UIK.  19S 

"But   on   that   head,  Fi"i-a,  y"U    &]  A  to 

annoy  yc.u." 

"  1'erhaps   Iain:    but   yon    have   certainly  lo>t    the   knack  of 

::g  fine  tilings.     The  swamps  have  impaired  your  polite: 
That    last  phrase    has  not    1  ottered   your   speech,  since    I  am  at 
liberty  t<>  take  it  as  either  a  reproach  or  a  compliment." 

Han-nee  felt  that  the  game  was  growing  encouraging. 

"  Can  there  he  a  doubt  which  ?  As  a  compliment,  surely. 
But  let  me  have,  occasion  for  another,  the  meaning  of  which 
shall  be  less  liable  to  misconstruction.  Let  me  lead  you  to  the 
harpsichord." 

44  Excuse  me  —  not  to-night,  Claience  ;"  and  her  present  reply 
:ade  with  recovered  rigidity  of  manner. 

"  If  not  to-night,  Flora,  I  know  not  when  I  shall  hear  you 
again  —  perhaps    not   for  months  —  perhaps,   never!       I   go   to 
[  to  morrow." 

Her  manner  softened  as  *he  replied  :  — 

"Ah!    do  you,  Clarence  I  —  and   there,  at  present,  lies   the 
whole  brunt  of    the  war.     I  should  like  to  play  for  you,  Clar- 
1-iit  I  can  not.     You  must  be  content  with  music  of  drum 
and  trumpet  for  a  while." 

"  Why,  Flora  —  you  never  refused  me  before?" 

M  True  — but " 

"  But  what !  —  only  one  piece,  Flora." 

"Do  not  ask  me  again.     I  can  not  —  I  will  not  play  for  you 

'ght;    nay,  do  not   interrupt   me,  Clarence  :    my  harpsichord 

is  iii  tune,  and  I  am  nut  seeking  for  apologies.     I  tell  you  I  will 

not  play  for  you  to-night,  and  perhaps  I  will  never  play  for  you 

Tin-  young  colonel  of  cavalry  was  astounded. 

.a    Middleton  !"    was   his   involuntary    exclama 
tion.     Ti.  <    le   grandmother  echoed  it,  though  her  tones 

B  of  exhortation,  not  of  surj 

"  Fl"ra — Flora,  my    child  —  what   would   you    do?"   she   COii- 
t  with  ivhukii.  :ul  warning  li. 

.id    the    maiden  asHir'mgly  — "  h-t    me   hare 
my  o\\n  way  in  this.      I  like  frankne>>,   ird  ii 
he  ha>  always  scvMin-1  —and  \\  e  alwa\  ^    U  1:»  vi-d    him  --In-,  will 


194  THE  scorn. 

like  it  too.  I  am  a  country-girl,  and  may  lit1  permitted  a  little 
of  the  simplicity  —  you  call  it  bluntness,  perhaps  —  which  ii 
natural  to  one." 

"  Flora,  what  can  be  the  meaning  of  this  ?"  demanded  the 
lover  with  unaft'ected  earnestness  and  astonishment.  "In  what 
have  I  offended  you  ?  For  there  is  some  such  meaning  in  your 
words." 

The  maiden  looked  to  her  grandmother,  but  did  not  answer; 
and  Conway,  though  now  greatly  excited,  could  readily  perceive 
that  she  labored  under  feelings  which  evidently  tried  her  con 
fidence  in  herself,  and  tested  all  her  strength.  A  deep  suflusion 
overspread  her  cheek,  the  meaning  of  which,  under  other  cir 
cumstances,  he  might  have  construed  favorably  to  his  suit. 
Meanvliile,  the  c)]  lady  nodded  her  head  with  a  look  of  mixed 
meaning,  which  one,  better  read  in  the  movements  of  her  mind, 
might  have  found  to  signify,  "Go  through  with  what  you  have 
begun,  since  you  have  already  gone  so  far.  You  can  not  halt 
now." 

So,  indeed,  did  it  seem  to  be  understood  by  the  maiden ;  fc  * 
she  instantly  recovered  herself  and  continued:  — 

"Give   me   your  arm,  Clarence,  and  I   will   explain   alL     I 
am  afraid  I  have  overtasked  myself;   but  the  orphan,  Clarence 
Conway,  must  assert  her  own   rights   and  character,  though  ic 
may  somewhat  impair,  in  the  estimation  of  the  Mr.mger  sex,  he 
pretensions  to  feminine  delicacy." 

"You  speak  in  mysteries,  Flora,"  was  the  answer  of  the 
lover:  "surely  the  orphan  has  no  wrong  to  (W.r  at  my  hands; 
and  what  rights  of  Flora  Middleton  arc  there,  deputed  or  de 
nied  by  me,  which  it  becomes  her  to  oseerl  with  so  much 
solemnity,  and  at  such  a  fearful  risk  ?'' 

"  Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  know  «J!." 

She  took  his  arm,  and,  motioning  her  l.e&d  expressively  to 
ner  grandmother,  led  the  way  to  the  spacious  portico,  nalf- 
»>ml>owcre<l  by  gadding  vines  —  already  vanton  with  a  thousand 
ilowers  of  the  budding  season  —  ^hicb  formed  the  hi«J.  and 
imposing  entrance  to  the  ancient  d^vll-jig.  '1'h'1  "I'"1  ^;|S  "m' 
well  chosen  for  the  secrets  of  VOKCJ-  lovers  —  a  limne  of  buds, 
and  blossoms,  and  the  hallowing  !'.>•  i«. light — <{ii;et  ahove  in  the 


AT    i'.UIKU    PARK.  196 

sky.  earth  ;    a  icene  >U"h  as   prompts  tin-   mind    »o 

MI  that  there  may  lie  griefs  ami  strifes  at  a  distai: 
niin«»r>  nf  war  ami  bloodshed  in  barbarian  lands,  ami  often, 
that  will  uble  ours.  Clan-nee  paused  as  they  emerged 

into  the  sweet  natural  shadows  of  the  spot. 

"  I  low  have    1    dreamed   of  the<e  scene.-.  Flora  —  this   spot-  — 
.  and  these  only  !      My  heart  has  seareely  for- 

1'iid  or  leaf.      All  appears  MOW  as  I  fancy 
Jitly  in  our  long  rides  and  longer  watches  in  tlie  swam})." 
wnvd  M  :  :  — 

f  this  romance,  Clarence?     Can  it  \» 

that    he    w!,.i    thinks  of   blood,  and    battle,   and    the    near 

the  foe,  has   yet    a    thought  to   -pare  to    ladies' 

1"<\\<  B,   and    such    woman-fancies    as   make    up 

the  pleaMires  of  her  li>tless  moods,  and  furnish,  in    these   times. 

.-nly,  and  perhaps  her  1  -y." 

••  I  think  of  them  as  tributary  to  her  only,  Flora.      JVrhap*  I 
should  not  have  thought  of  these,  but  that  you  were  also  in  my 

;   and  you  remind  me  of  the  explanation 
b    I    have    to   make,  .and   to  demand.      Bear  with   me   1 
.eiit  ;   it  calls  for  all  my  resolution/' 

She  seated  herx-lf  upon  a  bench   beneath  the  vines,  and   ino- 
-ide    her.       After    a    brief   delay  —  a 
M  of  her  sex  —  .she  began  as  follow>  :  — 

"(  '  ftfore   1  UN*  you  to-night,  I  had  resolved 

rd    and    treat   you   a>   the  most    imlitVerent 
r    challenged    the    hospitality   of  my   fat! 

<lw«-!:  tl     I    have    mil    been    able    to    keep   my    resolution, 

•"-nijrht  reminds  me  so  much  of  old  times,  when    1 

—  why  ^houl.  j  it  '-_i, 

,  that   1  feel  unwilling  to  put  you  olV  as  a  ll 

••u-h    exp!  .is   will   justify   me    in 

:!y.    then,    Clarence    (^onway,    some    things    i. 
-  if  spoken  by  you.  and  of  me  —  >uch  tl. 

.!     be     Mipp,.M'd     Ilk 

young    woman    who    1,  .  ,1    1,'iin    to    think    that    .she    had 

thoughts  for  nothing   beside   himself.      I  will  not  tell  y 


196  THE  SCOUT. 

ence,  that  1  believed  all  this.  I  could  not  dare —  I  did  not  AS  ish 
to  believe  it ;  but,  I  thought  it  not  impossible  that  you  had 
spoken  of  me,  perhaps  too  familiarly,  without  contemplating  the 
injury  you  might  do  me  and  —  do  yourself.  Now,  if  you  kne\v 
anything  of  a  maiden's  heart,  Clarence  Conway  —  nay,  if  you 
Knew  anything  of  mine  —  you  would  readily  imagine  what  I 
must  have  felt  on  hearing  these  things.  The  burning  blushes 
on  my  cheeks  now,  painfully  as  I  feel  them,  were  as  nothing  to 
the  galling  sting  of  the  moment  when  I  heard  this  story." 

"  But  you  did  not  believe  it,  Flora  !" 

"  Believe  it  ?  no  !  not  all  —  at  least — " 

"None!  none!"  repeated  the  youth,  with  stern  emphasis,  as 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  looked  her  in  the  face  with 
such  an  expression  as  falsehood  never  yet  could  assume. 

"  That  I  should  speak  this  of  you,  and  that  you  should  believe 
it,  Flora  Middleton,  are  things  which  I  should  have  fancied 
equally  impossible.  Need  I  say  that  it  is  all  false  —  thoroughly 
false ;  that  your  name  has  never  passed  my  lips  but  with  i'eel- 
ings  of  the  profoundest  reverence ;  that — but  I  blush  too,  at 
the  seeming  necessity  of  saying  all  this,  and  saying  it  to  you : 
I  thought  —  I  could  have  hoped,  Flora  Middleton,  that  you,  at 
least,  knew  me  better  than  to  doubt  me  for  a  mom  cut,  or  to 
listen  with  credulous  ear  to  such  a  miserable  slander.  The  neces 
sity  of  this  explanation,  next  to  the  sorrow  of  having  given  pain 
iO  you,  is  the  keenest  pang  which  you  could  make  me  suffer." 

"Be  not  angry,  Clarence,"  she  said  gently  —  "remember 
what  society  exacts  of  my  sex  —  remember  how  much  of  our 
position  depends  upon  the  breath  of  man  ;  —  our  tyrant  too  often 

—  always  our  sole  judge  while  we  dwell  upon  the  earth.     His 
\\hispor  of  power  over  us,  is  our  death;  —  the  death  of  our  pridf 

—  of  that   exclusiveness  of  which  he,  himself,  is   perhaps,  the 

;  jealous  being;  and  whether  the  tale  of  his  abuse  of  this 
power,  be  true  or  not  —  think  how  it  must  wound  and  humble  — 
how  it  must  disturb  the  faith,  with  the  judgment,  of  the  pour 
woman,  who  feels  that  she  is  always,  to  some  degree,  at  tho 
y  of  the  irresponsible  despot  whom  she  must  fear,  even 
when  she  can  not  honor.  I  mention  this  to  excuse  the  prompt 
ness  of  my  resentment.  I  tell  you,  Clarence  Conway,  that  a 


SOME   LOVI-:    I'AHSAGES    AT    i:i:iKK    I'ARK.  197 

in  .»f  my  fr;uik  nature,  is  compelled   to  he   resentful,  if  she 
suhdue  the  slanderer  to  silence.      Sinn. UT  i>  of  such  mush- 

growth.  ;  ,  l;irge  a  surface,  that  it  is  need 

ful  at  once  to  check  the  first  surmises,  and  douhts,  and  insinua 
tions  with  which  it  hegius  its  fungous,  hut  poisonous  existence. 
My  feeling  ,.u  thi>  suhjeet —  my  keen  j.'.ihmsy  of  my  own  posi- 
ti.in  —  a  jealousy  the  more  natural,  as,  iVom  the  frankness  of  my 
disposition,  I  am  frequently  liahle  to  he  misunderstood,  has  • 
sihly  led  me  to  do  you  injustice.  Even  when  this  reached  my 

I  did  not  helieve  it  altogether.      I  thought  it  not  improhahle, 
however,    that    you    had    spoken    of    me    ainon"    your   friends, 

and " 

"Forgive  me  that  I  interrupt  you,  Flora.  I  feel  too  much 
pain  at  what  you  §ay —  to,,  much  annoyance  —  to  sutler  you  to 
go  on.  Let  in.-  finish  my  &  I  shall  employ  hut  few- 

words,  and  they  shall  he  final,  or  —  nothing!      I  have  no  friends 
to  whom  I  should  0  k  a  falsehood  of  anv  kind  —  none  to 

whom  I  would  ever  utter,  with  unbecoming  familiarity,  the  name 

:  .ra  Middled;,.      If  I    have    spoken   of  you   in    the  hearing 

of   others,    it    has    I, ecu    very    seldom;     only,    perhaps,    when    it 

•  •d    needful    for    me    to    do    s..  — perhaps    never    more    thay 

;    and   then   never  in  disparagement  of  that  mode.-ty  which 

i>  th-  eharacto.  '  But! " 

He  paused  !  II,-  was  reminded  at  this  moment  of  the  late 
conf.'i-ence  which  he  had  with  Kdward  Conway.  I.i  that  . 

certainlj  ;  a  suj.erior  right,  over  hi>  kins- 

man,  to    {ippmarh    I'lora    Middleton    with    love,      'i'his  assertion, 
-nly  contemplated  the  ndative  position  of  the  hr-.t!  . 

BTJ  and  was  accomj)anied  hy  an  express  disclaimer, 
on  t'le  part  of  ('la.  any  inMu-  the   maiden    her- 

fliis  ebea  .  the  dif- 

ticulties  in   th.  an   explanation,    unless   hy  the   I 

of  a   :  ,;p!e  —  bill  one  —  which 

apt  to  he  []    y()nt!i- 

fal    '  '•!!    who    kl)"\V 

:    -ettin-    thrwugli    the    knots   of 
the  i  ins. 

.'  tat*  Spoken  I'lora  —  nay,  1    have   spoken   of  you 


198  IMK    SCOUT. 

and  in  reference  to  the  most  dedicate  suhjcct  in  the  history  of  a 
woman's  heart.  Thus  far  I  make  my  confession,  and  will  for 
«4>ear  with  your  permission  saying  more  —  saying  what  1  mean 
to  say — until  I  have  craved  of  you  the  name  of  him  who  ha? 
thus  ventured  to  defame  me." 

"  I  can  not  tell  you,  Clarence." 

"  Can  not,  Flora  I  —  CXn  not! — " 

'  IF///  nut,  is  what  I  should  say,  perhaps;  hut  I  have  used 
those  Avords  once  already,  to-night,  when  I  felt  that  they  must 
give  you  pain  ;  and  I  would  have  forhorne  their  use  a  second 
rime.  I  can,  certainly,  tell  you  from  whom  I  heard  these  things, 
hut  I  will  not." 

"  And  why  not,  Flora?     Would  you  screen  the  slanderer  ?" 

••  Yes!  —  For  a  ,-ery  simple  reason;  —  1  would  not  have  you 
fight  him,  Clarence. " 

"  Enough,  Flora,  that  1  know  the  man.  None  could  he  so 
hase  hut  the  person  whom  you  know  as  Edward  Conway,  h  ;t 
whom  I  know " 

He  paused  —  he  could  not  make  the  revelation. 

"  11,1 !  Tell  me.  Clarence  —  what  know  you  of  Edward  Coi> 
way,  except  that  he  is  your  near  kinsman?" 

•'That  which  makes  me  Mush  to  hclieve  that  he  is  my  father's 
son.  Hut  my  knowledge  is  such,  Flora,  that  1  will  not  tell  it 
you.  It  differs  from  yours  in  this  respect,  that,  unhappily,  it  is 
true  — all  true  —  teirildy  true!  Know,  then,  that,  to  him  —  to 
Ed-  iway — long  ago,  did  I  declare,  what  I  once  already 

pi:  mmed  to  declare  to  you  — that  1  loved  you — " 

••  J,et  me  not  hear  you,  Clarence,"  said  the  maiden  timidly, 
rising  as  she  spoke.  Hut,  he  took  her  hand,  and  with  a  gentle 
pressure  restored  her  to  her  seat  heside  him. 

"  1  niiiht.  It  is  now  nrce.^arv  for  my  exculpation.  I'M 'Ion- 
he  saw  you,  he,  knew  that  1  loved  yon.  and  wraa  the  faithles- 
nnij'ulnnte  of  my  unsuspecting  aiTections.  He  betrayed  them 
He  sought  you  thenceforward  with  love  himself.  Words  ot 
anger  —  Mows,  almost — followed  hetv.een  us;  and  though  w, 
did  not  actually  reach  that  issue,  yet  suspicion,  and  jealousy 
rind  hate,  are  n<>w  the  terms  on  which  we,  stand  to  each  other. 
He  poured  \\\\>  cursed  falsehood  into  your  ears,  I  have  iv 


199 

t"  think.  !  Ill  ten  Witliii. 

have    saved    I  him.  only,  have     I 

terms  1:  tii!»-  f..  misrepresentation,     I    did   not  <pe.-ik  i 

him  ;_I    dunked    him 

my  tru.st,  though  I  did  not  then  dream  tliat   lie  had 
louhly-dyed  traitor  that  I  liavo  since  found  him." 
•'  Let  HI  return  to  the  parlor,  Clare: 

;ith.  with  mild  and  mournful 

Middleton,    let    our    understanding    lie    final.     To- 
:«•   Ninety  Six.  and    (iod    knows   what    fa; 

QIC    there.      Yni.  j  :  mining    it,  hy    the 

u-hk-h  you   ii.  _!lt.      I  wrote  you  l,y  .I..hn"  Jian- 

—  J  know  that   you  ivreived    that    letter- 
sent  me  no  nn.swer." 

"  I-i't   me  CO  •'.  Clarence  :  — But    th,.  1  efore    I 

letter,   I  \\a<  told  of  tl, 
"  Ha  !       Has  the  rej.tile  heen  BO  lon^r  at  his  weh  /"    cxela:: 

outh  — "  Pint  J  \\ill  crush  him  ii: 

"Beware!        Oh!     Clarence    Conway.    lu-war-.'    of    \\hat    you 
say.      Heware  rash  \<.u  !i  jiertonnanci          '.       -.  ,.u  forget 

that    the   man    of  whom    you   sj-.-ak  N  your  In-other  —  the  son  of 
your  fath.- 

••  Wliy  sho.d.l   I  remember  that  \\hich    lie    has    hiins<  1; 

iiich  he  rejiudiates  with  l.itterrst  cur>es,  an.l  w\ 
the    Mack    deeds    of  his    wretched    1  fe  —  ,.f  whicii. 
know  nothing  — have  repudiated  m,,n.  etlectually  than  all. 
il'l    not  him    now,    Flora.      I    would,   if 

'•<'  all  bitl  my  thought  —  a>  in  sj.eakii: 

Id  .-xclnde  it  from  my  lips.      11-  Mm.      Von  kimw 

8  I  am  sent  upon.      You   can  in  :    its  dan 

gers.     The  employ  ment  i:ow  !><•; 

alon-   the  Bahldfl  no  ordinary  cliaracter.      It 

•i;i  ha\  e  learned    to    i 

Destroy  with    an    appetite  of  far   greater   aiix- 
'      v.  now,  are  death  onlv 

••  1  know  !     I  know  !  hnrrihle  condition 

of  things.     I  know  it  all." 


200  THE  SCOUT. 

44  The  final  issue  is  at  hand,  and  victory  is  almost  in  oui 
grasp.  The  fury  of  the  tories  increases  with  their  despair, 
They  feel  that  they  must  fly  the  country,  and  they  are  accord- 
ingly  drenching  it  with  hlood.  I  speak  to  you,  therefore,  with 
the  solemnity  of  one  who  may  never  see  you  more.  But  if  we 
do  meet  again,  Flora,  dear  Flora  —  if  I  survive  this  bloody  cam 
paign —  may  I  hope  that  then  —  these  doubts  all  dispersed, 
these  slanders  disproven  —  you  will  look  on  me  with  favor  ;  you 
will  smile  —  yon  will  be  mine;  mine  only  —  all  mine!" 

The  tremors  of  the  soft  white  hand  which  he  grasped  within 
his  own  assured  the  lover  of  the  emotion  in  her  breast.  Her 
bosom  heaved  for  an  instant,  but  she  was  spared  the  necessity 
of  making  that  answer,  which,  whether  it  be  "no"  or  "yes,"  is 
equally  difficult  for  any  young  damsel's  utterance.  A  sharp, 
sudden  signal  whistle  was  sounded  from  without  at  this  moment; 
—  once — twice  —  thrice;  —  a  bustle  was  heard  among  the  lew 
dragoons  who  had  been  stationed  by  the  prudent  commander 
about  the  premises ;  and,  a  moment  after,  the  subdued  tones  of 
the  faithful  Supple  Jack  apprized  his  captain  that  danger  was 
at  hand. 

"  Speak  !  —  speak  to  me,  Flora,  ere  I  leave  you  —  ere  1  leave 
you,  perhaps,  for  ever!  Speak  to  me!  —  tell  me  that  I  have 
not  prayed  for  your  love  and  devoted  myself  in  vain.  Send  me 
not  forth,  doubtful  or  hopeless.  If  it  be " 

Sweet,  indeed,  to  his  heart,  were  the  tremulous  beatings 
which  he  distinctly  heard  of  hers.  They  said  all  that  her  lips 
refused  to  say.  Yet  never  was  heart  more  ready  to  respond  in 
the  affirmative  —  never  were  lips  more  willing  to  declare  them 
selves.  One  reflection  alone  determined  her  not  to  do  BO.  It 
was  a  feeling  of  feminine  delicacy  that  prompted  her,  for  the 
time,  to  withhold  the  confession  of  feminine  weakness. 

"What!"  —  such  was  the  reflection  as  it  passed  through  her 
mind  —  "bring  him  to  these  shades  to  hear  such  a  confession! 
Impossible!  What  will  he  think  of  me  ?  No!  no! — not  to- 
uight.  Not  here,  at  least !" 

She  was  still  silent,  but  her  agitation  evidently  increased; 
yet  not  more  than  that  of  her  lover.  The  summons  of  the  faith 


fB    LOVK    I  i:    PARK.  'JOI 

ful  sco'it  was  again  repeated.     The  circumstances  admitted  of 
no  delay. 

"  Oil,  speak  to  me,  dearest  Flora.  Surely  you  can  not  need 
any  new  knowledge  of  what  I  am,  or  of  the  love  that  I  bear 
you.  Surely,  you  can  IK  it  still  give  faith  to  these  wretched 
slanders  of  my  wretched  brother!" 

"No!  no!"  tihe  eagerly  answered.  "I  believe  you  to  bo 
true,  Clarence,  and  as  honorable  as  you  are  faithful.  But  in  re 
spect  to  what  you  plead,  Clarence,  I  can  not  answer  now  —  not 

Let  me  leave  you  now!" 
•  N«t  yet,  Fl..ra!      But  one  word." 
"Not  /«•/•<-,  Clarence  —  not  Ju-re .'"  with  energy. 
"  Tell  me  that  I  may  hope  !" 

'  I  can  tell  you  nothing  now,  Clarence — not  a  word  here." 

lit.    lips  were   inflexible;    but  if  ever  hand  yet  spoke  the 

meaning  of  its  kindred  heart,  then  did  the  soft,  shrinking  hand 

which  he  gra.-ped  nervously  in  his  own,  declare  the  meaning  of 

It  said  "hope  on  —  love  on  !"  as  plainly  as  maiden  finger 

i    it    yet;    and   this  was    all  —  and,   perhaps,   enough, 

first  answer  to  a  young  beginner — which  she  then  vouch- 

.  him,  as  she  glided  into  the  apartment.  In  the  next 
moment  the  faithful  Supple  Jack,  clearing,  at  a  single  hound, 
the  height  from  the  terrace  to  the  upper  balcony,  in  which  the 
interview  had  taken  place,  breathed  into  the  half  oblivious  senses 

mmander  the  hurried  words — 

"The  Hriti>h  and  tones  are  upon  us,  Clarence !  We  have 
not  R  moment  to  lose!'* 


202  THE   SCOUT. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

A    CONFERENCE    IN    THE    TOMH. 

SK  words  at  once  awoke  the  young  soldier  to  activity 
Clarence  Comvay  was  not  the  man  to  become  subdued  by 
"Amaryllis  in  the  shade,"  nor  meshed,  fly-like,  in  the  "tangles 
of  any  Nu-cra's  hair."  A  new  mood  possessed  him  with  the 
communication  of  his  faithful  scout,  who,  by  the  way,  also  per 
formed  the  duties  of  his  lieutenant. 

"Get  your  men  instantly  to  horse,  Jack  Bannister,  and  send 
them  forward  on  the  back  track  to  the  river,"  was  the  prompt 
command  of  the  superior. 

44  Done  a'ready,  colonel,"  was  the  respectful  answer. 
«  Good  ;  —  and,  now,  for  your  report." 

The  examination  which  followed  was  brief,  rapid,  and  com 
prehensive.  Though  fond  of  long  speeches  usually,  Jack  Ban 
nister  was  yet  the  model  of  a  man  of  business.  He  could  con- 
tine  himself,  when  needful,  to  the  very  lei 

"From  whence  came  the  enemy'?  —  above  or  below?" 
"  "Below,  sir." 

'  AVhat  force  do  your  scouts  report  to  you  I" 
"Large!  —  1   reckon  it's  Rawdou's  whole  strength  ;  but  the 
advance  only  is  at  hand." 

"  Raw-don,  ha  !  He  goes  then  to  the  relief  of  'Ninety  Six.1 
I  trust  he  goes  too  late.  But  our  business  is  scarce  with  him. 
What  cavalry  has  he  ?  Did  you  learn  llmt  /" 

"It's  mighty  small,  I'm   thinking;   but  we  can't  hear  1. 
tin.     It's  had  a  monstrous  bad  cutting  up,  you  know,  at  Orange- 
burg,  and   don't    count   more,  I   reckon,  than  sixty  men,  all  told 
That's  the  whole,  foice  of  Coiiin,  I  know." 

"AYe  must  manage  that,  then!      It's   the  only  mode  ii: 
we  can  annoy  Rawdoii  and  battle  bib  object*.     Between  '  . 


v  THK  TMMH.  203 

4 

k1  ;unl  -N  should  surely  pick  up  all  of  his  flock 

Are  tin-  BCOUtfl  in  f       All  ?"       * 

"All  lint  Finlcy  —  I'm  jub'ous  lie's  cut  of}'  below.     They've 
i  !ii  Mm  napping.  1 

,  before  this,  the   penalty  of  his   nap.      We 
incur  like  penalties.     We   have   nothing 
Iraw  off  quietly  from  Brier  Park,  taking  the    1 
k  by  the    river,  and    plant   ourselves   in  waiting  a  few   mile? 
a  ilo/en  places  along  the  road  where  we  can 
•  •in  into  a  neat  ambush,  which  will   enable  us  to  empty 
their  saddles.      What    do   the   lower  scouts  sav  of  their  order  of 
niarrh  .'" 

*Pn  tic!     They  had  to  run  for  it  —  Coffin'*  cavalry 

-rouring  pref  •  rably  ahead.     But  they  keep  up  a  mighty 

quick  step.      It's  a   forced   march,  and   his  cavalry  is  a  mile  or 
m   re  in  a  Ivai. 

41  The}'  march  without  beat  of  drum  /" 

Or  hla-t  iiflmglr; — so  «|uiet  you  can  hardly  hear  the   clat 
ter  of  a  Babre.      Nn;h:ng  but  the  heavy  tread  of  their  fdfe." 

"  Kno  ::gh.      As    you    have    sent    the    troop    forward,   let    your 

scouts   file  (iff  ijuietly   after  them.      Keep   rinse,  along  the  river, 

let   them   all  be  in  saddle  when  I  reach  them  at  the  end  of 

tin-  causey.      Rawdou  will  probably  make  the  'Barony'  his  place 

It  1  t.      Hr    must    have  marched  forty  miles  BinCO  la>t 

:i!ght.      J'ity  we  had  not  known  of  this!      That  fellow,  Fin- 

1,-y  —  he  wa«.  a  sharp  fellow,  too  —  but  no  matter  !     (i»  you  now, 

Bannister.      Have    my   hor>e  in  readim-ss  by  the   old  vault;    and 

tg,  in  filing  off.  dismoui.t  :  their  hor.-es,  that 

ihi-ri-   may  !.••  no  mini  ,  .  latter  of  hoofs.      A  .  — I 

will  hut  say  f.ue-,\ell  t««  -ra." 

\    for   m<  ,  '<>nel,  it    \  M  ;  for 

•  MI  uiight\ 
t  •  me.  ;md   I  like  to  I c  civil." 

I'larciu-e  prom  186(1  him,  air;  •  -'lent  fellow  di 

whom    he    mo>.t    all'ccti 
rd   to   th«-  .''lit  iu  uhich  the  ladies 

ami    suffering    undei    the    natural    e\ 

•ling   in    th-    •  days,  of 


204  THH   SCOUT. 

i 

the  approach  of  a  British  army.  Brief  words  at  parting  were 
allowed  to  the  love«;  and  whether  Mrs.  JMiddlcton  conjectured, 
or  had  been  told  by  Flora,  of  what  had  taken  place  between 
them,  the  old  lady  was  civil  enough  to  leave  the  couple  together 
without  the  restraint  of  her  maternal  presence.  Preliminaries, 
at  such  moments,  among  sensible  people,  are  usually  dispense.! 
with. 

"  You  will  not  answer  me,  Flora  ?" 

"Spare  me  Clarence  —  not  now." 

"  Not  now  !  Think,  dearest  Flora,  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  I  leave  you  :  the  force  that  drives  me  from  your  presence ! 
Remember  the  danger  that  follows  my  footsteps,  and  the  dan 
gers  which  I  am  bound  to  seek.  I  may  never  again  behold 
you  —  may  lose,  in  the  skirmish  of  the  dawn,  the  hope,  the  fear, 
the  thousand  dreams  and  anxieties  which  now  possess  and  alter 
nately  afflict  and  delight  my  heart.  Let  me  not  go  forth  trem 
bling  with  this  doubt.  But  one  word  —  one  only  —  which  shall 
fill  my  bosom  with  new  spirit,  strength  and  courage.  Speak, 
dearest -Flora  —  but  a  single  word!" 

"  Ah,  Clarence,  urge  me  not !  What  I  should  say  might  have 
a  very  different  effect  upon  you ;  might  subdue  your  spirit,  dis 
arm  your  strength;  make  your  heart  to  waver  in  its  courage; 
might- " 

"Enough!  enough!  I  ask  for  no  other  answer!"  he  ex 
claimed,  with  bright  eyes  and  a  bounding  spirit.  "  Nothing 
could  do  that  but  the  fear  of  losing  a  treasure  suddenly  won,  and 
so  precious,  over  all  things,  in  my  sight.  But  I  trust  that  this 
sweet  conviction,  dear  Flora,  will  have  no  such  effect  upon  my 
spirit.  If,  before,  I  fought  only  for  my  country,  1  now  light  for 
love  and  country  ;  and  the  double  cause  should  occasion  double 
courage!  Farewell  —  farewell!  God  be  with  you,  and  his 
angels  watch  over  you,  as  fondly,  as  faithfully,  and  with  more 
ability  to  serve  you,  than  your  own  Clarence.  Farewell,  fare 
well  !" 

Hastily  seizing  her  hand,  lie  carried  it  to  his  lips  with  a  fer 
vent  pressure:  then,  elastic  with  new  emotions  of  delight,  that 
made  him  heedless  and  thoughtless  of  the  danger,  he  hurried 
downward  into  the  eourt-yarl  below.  The  area  lay  in  utter 


OMB.  205 

silence.      Tin-   sc.-uts   had  [  «m,   and, 

with  «i  single  glance-  up  to  the  apartment  where  In-  had  left  the 
lailv  of  his  h>ve.  the  youthful  partisan  took  his  way  after  his 
lieutenant.  Let  us  only  follow  him  so  far  as  to  look  after  other 
is  in  our  narrative,  who  lie  upon  his  route,  and  whom  we 
may  m>  longer  leave  unnotic. 

;  and  wearisome,  indeed,  had  heen  the  hour  of  anxious 
watch  which  the  chief  of  the  Black  Riders  had  maintained  over 
the  barony,  in  his  gloomy  hiding-place.  Twenty  times,  in  that 
period,  had  he  emerged  from  the  tomb,  and  advanced  toward 
the  dwelling  of  the  living.  But  his  coin  muled  by  the 

military  restraints  which  the  timely  prudence  of  I'onwny,  and 
the  watchfulness  of  Bannister,  had  set  aiound  the  mansion. 
Vainly,  from  the  cover  of  this  or  that  friendly  tree,  did  his 
strain  to  pierce  the  mi>ty  intervals,  and  penetrate  the  apartment 
whose  gay  lights  and  occasional  shadows  were  all  that  were  dis 
tinguishable.  Disappointed  each  time,  he  returned  to  his  place 
of  concealment,  with  increasing  chagrin;  plunging,  in  sheer 
.•ration,  down  into  its  awful  and  dark  .  which  to  him 

:.ted  no  aspects  of  cither  awe  01  dark] 

At  length,  however,  the  sound  of  a  movement  near  the  man 
sion  awakened  in  him  a  hope  that  his  tedious  watch  would 
shortly  end.  Slight  though  the  noises  were,  under  the  cautious 
management  of  Bannister,  the  calling  in  of  tlu  .  ami 

their  withdrawal,  necessarily  reacheu  hi>  ears,  and  prepared  him 
for  the  movement  of  the   troop  which    followed.      Each   tr« 
leading    his    steed    with    shortened    rein,    they    deployed    .-!• 
beside  the  tomb,  little  dreaming  whom  it  harbored  ;   and  the  out 
law  was  compelled,  during  t'ieir  DTOgreOB,  to  obbi 
singular  <jiiiet. 

The    vaulted    hah/  no    unfretjuent 

hiding-places   in   those   days   for  and,  to  a 

trained    in    the    s\\ann,   warfare,    to    OOBYerl    every    situati.  : 
obscurity  and    darkness   into    a    place    of  retieat  01  ambush,  the 
slightest   circumstance  or  movement  on    his  part,  he  well   k: 
would    result    in    their    sudden    search   of   his    gloomy 
refuge.     Through  a  chink  in  the  decaying  floor  of  the  van! 
watched   their  progress;   and  when   they  had    jjoiic    from    Mght, 


-06  THE  scon. 

swallowed  up  in  the  deep  blank  of  the  forest  along  the  margin 
of  the  river,  lie  mice  more  asceiuled  to  the  light. 

HLs  path  now  promised  to  he  free.  He  know  the  troop  to  he 
>,ne,  of  his  hrother's  reghnent —  a  small  though  famous  squadron 
— "  •  B  Blues" — proverbial  for  bold  riding,  happy 

horsemanship,  and  all  of  that  characteristic  daring  which  e\erv- 
where  marked  the  southern  cavalry  throughout  the  war.  The 
uniform  he  readily  distinguished,  though  not  the  persons.  He 
fancied  that  his  In-other  was  among  them  ;  and,  hearing  no 
further  sound,  with  that  impatience  which  was  natural  to  his 
desires,  and  which  was  necessarily  increased  by  the  restraints  to 
which  they  had  been  subjected,  he  prepared  to  go  boldly  for 
ward  lo  the.  mansion. 

But  the  coast  wa-  not  yet  clear.  He  had  advanced  a  few 
paces  only,  when  hi-  beard  the  faint,  but  mellow  t-.iu's  of  a  dis 
tant  bugle,  rising  and  falling  in  s\\  eet  harmony  with  the  light 
zephyrs  which  horn  them  to  his  ears.  These  sounds  now  fur 
nished  him  with  the  true  reason  for  his  brother's  flight,  and  this 
was  of  a  sort  which  should  not  have  troubled  him.  The  ene 
mies  of  his  kinsman,  according  to  his  profession,  were,  not  un 
likely  to  be  his  friends;  yet  the  business  upon  which  the  heart 
of  Edward  Morton  was  set,  and  the  position  in  which  lie  then 
Stood,  were  such  as  to  make  the  presence  <>f  a  British  force 
almost  as  little  desirable  to  him  as  had  been  that  of  bis  brother. 
His  present  objects  admitted  of  no  friendships.  Thoroughly 
selfish,  they  could  only  be  prosecuted  at  the  expense  of  the 
•  •  in  which  be  was  engaged,  and  at  the  sacrifice  of  that  band 
with  which,  for  life  and  death,  his  own  life  —  if  his  oath  to  them 
were  of  any  value  —  was  solemnly  and  indissolubly  connected. 

rly,  therefore,  and  with  renewed  \v.\ation,  did  he  listen 
tn  the  sweet  but  startling  tones  of  that  sudden  trumpet.  Curs 
ing  the  course  of  events  which,  so  far,  that  :ii  :bf.  seemed  destined 
to  baffle  his  purposes,  lie  stood  for  a  fe  ,v  moments,  in  doubt, 
Upon  the  spot  where  the  sounds  lirst  struck  his  ears;  hesitating 
whether  to  go  forward  boldly,  or  at  once;  return  to  his  place  "f 
v. 

T-i  adopt  the  former  course,  was,  h,  Li«  present  undisguised 
condition,  to  declare  to  Flora  IfiddletOD  the  fact,  which  he  had 


207 

hitlicrto  studiously  conceale  er  kuowled-e. of!. 

with   the    Hriti.sh   cau>e.      Si;<  h  a  revelation,  lit-  well    k 
would,  in    the   mind   of  one  to  tlie  \ 

part  .  ;hat   maiden,  .  -t  liia 

pei>onal  pretension.-,  on    t!.<  -of  which 

himself,  lit*  miirht,  in  .- 

"While  lie  doul, ted  and   delii 
tied    hy  othe;  which  warned    him  of  the    i  of  n 

niination.     The   h 

.  wa>  nu'a>iire(l  like  th.  '.dier,  \\t-re,  heard  aj»j)i>>)ach- 

injr  tlin>'.  |  ended    IVoin  thu  d\vel!in^r  in  the 

;nli  ;   and  the  outlaw  moved  hmriedly  Inn 
the  >lieher  he  had  left. 

He  R  ly  rapid,  .enough  in  his  movements.      The  per- 

•ai-liin^  was  no  other  tlian  Clari-nce  (.'oiiway.      He  had 

just  part*  en,  with    Fh.ra   ^liddleton.      Her  la.-t 

;ill  snnnding  in  his  ears  like  some  sweet,  melan 
choly  music,  which  the   lan^uar'  heart  delivers,  in  love, 

her  hand 

ed    still    to   make    it-elf  felt    from    hi*   o\\  n,   upward,  to   his 
;.  with  a  sensation  which   carried  a  thrill 

With   the   Imjjle   of  the   enemy   somulinr 
U-ack   hehind   him,  he   hail    then    no  thought,  no  feclin 

:;y  —  and,  certainly,  no   Ira;,      i'.-e.-.  at    that   moment,  if  not 

ikened   no  emotion   in   his    hosom  which  a  smi! 
imlii  pun  his  lips  did  not  sutliciently  e.xpn 

From    mnsinu->.  the    dieamy  languor  of  which  : 

had 

kin.^man'.  'I'he   mere    huuiaii   outline 

all  that    he   hehcld,  and    th:  .,nt    only. 

WO.S  '!iat  it   \va  own    dragOOHB,  all 

iiom  had.  goiM-  forward   in   that   direction,  and  hum 

s,  or  pos> 

:    the    outlaw   had   1  <  •  —  too 

like  a  Hijjit  —  no<   |  n  in>tantly  t:..  ]>ai 

wa* 
prubnhly  to   alurn. 


208  THE   SCOUT. 

be  thought  of.  To  hurry  in  pursuit  was  the  only  mode  of  &a 
certaining  his  object,  and  this  mode  was  put  in  execution  as 
promptly  as  resolved  upon. 

The  partisan  rushed  forward,  but  the  object  of  his  pursuit  v.::s 
uo  longer  to  be  seen.     The  old  field,  on  one  hand,  was  bare 
desolate  —  the  park,  on  the  left,  did  not  attract  the  youth's 
tention.     Obviously,  the  melancholy  grove  which  led  to  and  en 
vironed  the  ancient  vault,  was  that  to  which  the  footsteps  of  th.- 
fugitive  would   most   naturally  incline.     Into  the  deep  shadou s 
of   this   he   pressed    forward,  until   he    stood    beside    the   tomb 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  he  speak,  challenging  the  fugitive  to 
'  stand"  whom  he  could  no  longer  see. 

The  summons  was  heard  the  moment  after  the  outlaw  had 
b.iried  himself  in  his  place  of  concealment.  The  tones  of  his 
Brother's  voice  arrested  the  outlaw.  That  voice  awakened  all 
his  rage  and  hate,  while  reminding  him  of  his  gage  of  battle; 
and  when  he  remembered  that  Clarence  Conway  had  but  that 
instant  left  the  presence  of  the  woman  whom  lie  sought,  and 
whom  he.  had  not  been  permitted  to  see  —  when  he  remembered 
that  he  was  his  hated  rival,  and  when  he  thought  that  his  lips 
mi^ht  even  then  be  warm  with  the  fresh  kisses  of  beis  —  the. 
feelings  in  his  heart  were  no  longer  governable  !  I'liiting  with 
that  gnawing  impatience,  which  had  grown  almost  t<i  »  f»-\i-r, 
and  was  a  frenzy,  under  his  late  constraint,  they  determined  him 
,t;:ainst  all  hazards;  and,  darting  from  the  vault,  ho  answered 
sinuous  of  his  foe  with  a  hiss  of  scorn  and  defiance. 

"Stand  thou!  —  Clarence  Conway  —  wretch  and  rebel!     \Ve 
aie  met  on  equal  terms  at  last." 

"Ay, "cried  the  other,  nowise  startled  at  the  sudden  appa 
n;i"ii  ;   "  well  met  !"  and  as  the  outlaw  sprang  forward  from  the 
with  uplifted  dagger,  Clarence  met  him  with  his  own. 

A  moment's  collision  only  had  eiiMied,  when  the  latter  Btm   K 
hi.^  weapon   into  the  mouth  of  his  enemy,  with  a  blow  so  fow 
fill  as  to  precipitate  him  back  into  the  ca\ein  which  be  had 
left.      Clarence  sprang  into  the  tomb  after  liiui, 
deep   darkne.-s   of  the,   s<-ene,  among  the  mor.ldei  ::i^   coilins   am! 
dry  bonea  of  the  dead,  the  brothers  grappled  in  deadly  desjl    m 
tiou. 


;i:  TOMB 

ii,  ami  the  pi-  its  awful  trophies,  had   nn   ' 

..      The    tiring  -  of  the   heart  were   triumphant 

their  threatening   shadows,  and   the   struggle  W*B  ivr. 

,',  ith  a  degree  <»f  liatc   and  fury  that  found  in- 
,;her  than  diininntion  from  tlie  solemn  and  dai' 
hv  which    they    H  Unt    few  -\\ 

.en,  and   those   only   in   tlie  breathing  intervals   which   their 

left   them       The   language  of  the   outlaw  was  t! 
tion   and   hate;   that  of  Conway,  an   indignation   natural 
ich  revolted  at  the  brutal  and   sanguinar;. 
mpered,  at    the    same    time,  with   eijnal    scorn   and 
,iion. 

In  Clarence  Conway,  the  chief  of  the  I'dack  Ixidc:-s  saw  only 
the  imhodied  form  of  all  the  evil  influences  which  !;.•  hail  felt  or 
fancied  iVom  his  liuyhood  ;  the  long-engendei •<  and  mal 

f  twenty  years  finding,  at  length,  its  unqualified  83 
In   h  be   was    the   hatrful   rival   who   had   beguiled   from 

him,  with  equal  facility,  the  regards  of  parents,  tli  <>nts 

of  friends,  the  smiles  of  fortune,  and  the  love  of  woman. 
Clarence,  on  the  other  hand,  no  longer  saw  the  kinsman  <•: 

:i  —  the   son    of  the  same  father  —  in  the  person  of  the  out 
law  ;   or,  if  he  remembered  the  tie-  of  hlood  at  all.it  was  only  to 
warm   his  hostility  the  more   against  one  who  had  so  conin 
outraged,  and   so   cruelly  dishonored   them  !       '. 
trayer  of  his  country,  and  t!  f  the   mo- 

i   themselves   against   her   peace  and   lih- 
;ruck,  and  struck  with  fatal  design  U) 
pate  !      Nor    need    it    he    denied    that    th- 
stimulated    hy    the    conviction    that    he    himself  fought 
with  a  pci.-.'inal  foe  who  had  threatened  him  with  all  t! 

t'  an   enduring  and  bloody  enmity  —  a  hatred  bom 
without  caiiM1.  and  nourished  without  restraint  —  warmed  by 

:i    rivalry,   and    a    suspicious   selfishness,  which    no 
labor   of   love    could    render  Me.    and    whieh    COuld 

finally  cease  in  the  death  of  one  or  both  of  the  combatants.    Tlie 
incoherent   lai  the    broken   words,  and 

ings   of  the  outlaw,  left  nothing  subject    :  :ure; 

and  while   the   two  wmthe  1  t  -jether   in    their  narrow  apartment 


210  THE    8CODT. 

the  otheiwise  horrible  stillness  of  their  strife  might  be  thoughx 
relieved  and  rendered  human  by  the  bursts  of  passion  and  invec- 
tive  which  fell  the  while  from  the  lips  of  both.  But  these 
caused  no  interruption  to  the  conflict.  They  Fought  only  \\itli 
daggers,  thougb  both  were  provided  with  sword  and  pistol.  A 
mutual  sense  of  the  proximity  of  those  whom  neither  wished  t» 
alarm,  rendered  them  careful  not  to  emplov  weapons  whirl, 
could  draw  a  third  party  to  the  scene  of  strife.  Besides,  !''«• 
dagger  was  the  only  weapon  that  might  be  employed  in  their 
limited  area  with  any  propriety.  This  weapon,  deadly  *n 
close  struggle  as  it  usually  is,  was  rendered  less  effectual  in  ;he 
imperfect  light  of  the  place,  and  by  the  baffling  readme— 
their  rival  skill.  They  both  felt  that  the  struggle,  must  be  fatal, 
and  did  not,  accordingly,  suffer  (heir  rage  to  disarm  their  provi 
dence  and  caution.  Still,  several  wounds  had  been  given  and 
ivcrived  on  either  side.  One  of  these  had  penetrated  the  right 
arm  of  the  partisan,  but  the  point  of  the  dagger  had  been  diverted, 
and  the  wound  was  one  of  the  flesh  only,  not  dee])  nor  disabling. 
The  outlaw  had  been  less  fortunate.  That  first  blow,  which  he 
had  received  in  the  mouth  at  the  entrance  of  the  vault,  had 
necessarily  inihienccd  the  combat  as  first  blows  usually  do; 
*:nd,  though  not  of  serious  hurt,  for  the  point  of  the  weapon 
found  resistance  against  his  clenched  teeth,  two  of  which  were 
broken,  still  it  y«-ri«»ii-.Iy  affected  the  relations  of  the  parties. 
The  ore  it  encouraged,  the  other  it  provoked  to  increased  anger, 
which  impaired  his  coolness.  A  second  and  third  wound  in 
each  of  his  arms  had  followed  in  the  vault,  and  a  moment  came 
in  which  a  fourth  promised  to  be  f'u.al. 

Clarence  had  grappled  closely  with  his  kinsman,  had  borne 
him  backward,  and  succeeded  in  prostrating  him,  face  upward, 
upon  the  pile  of  coffins  which  rose  in  the  centre  of  the.  tomb. 
Here,  with  his  knee  upon  the  hieast  of  his  enemy,  one  hand 
upon  his  throat,  and  the  other  bearing  on  high  the  already 
dripping  steel,  the  stroke  and  the  death  seemed  equally  inevita 
ble.  So,  indeed,  the.  outlaw  considered  it  :  and  the  language 
nf  his  lips  at  that  moment  of  his  greater  peril,  spoke  more  <,. 
nsivelv  for  his  manhood  than,  perhaps,  it  had  ever  done  before. 

"Stj'ke'"  In-  n';e,l;   "  I    fear    \  on    not!      The   devil  you  h;t\- 


'211 

i   faithfully   in   turn  !      I    ask  you   not   foi 

•iway —  1    loathe   ;unl    > 

you   to   the    la.xt.      Strike   then,  a>    I    should    have   stricken   you. 
had  the  chance  fallen  to  my  lot." 

r\  he  weakness  of  a  human  and  a  social   sentiment  made  t! ••• 
youth    hesitate.      He    shivre.l    as   he    thought   upon   tl .•• 
1,1. ....I — ties    which    in     could    never    entirely    forget,    hov. 
much  they  might  he  scorned  l.y  his  proiligate  1-rother.     He 
still    hi.;   lather's    son —  he   would    have    spared  —  he    wished    to 

him. 

While  he  hesitated,  a  new  and  desperate  effort  was  made   l.y 
the   prostrate   outlaw.      Hope   and  fear  united  for  a  last  and  ter- 

rihle  struggle.      He    half  tO8< he   grasped  the  arm  with  wh.icli 

Clan-nee   held  him,  with   demoniac   strength,   and   flinging  him- 
velf  upward,  with   the   exercise  «f  all  that  muscle  which  he 

d  in  almost  eo^ial  degree  with  his  hrother,  ho  had  nearly 
shaken  himself  free  from  the.  hold  which  the.  latter  had  taken 
upon  him. 

It  was    then    that  the  da-ire r  ..f  Clan-nee  descende-1  ! — then, 
\\hen    it    l-eeame    ohximis    that  DO  indulgence    coul 
his  Jo.-  without  ilanirer  to  him.self.     But  the  hh»w,  even  then. 
;lia]  —  11(,t  iatal.      It  touched    no  vital    region.      'Y\ 

of  th»-  outlaw,  though   it   failed   in   its   ohjoct. 
another,  which   o>i<  his  partial   safety.      The  mouldering 

ifl  upon  which  he  « 

under  the  violence  and  ]>re 

blow  I    the    heart    of   the  thr-  Q6    down, 

with    a   fearful    crash,  in    fr;  up"ii  tlu>  damp  floor  of  the 

vault.      T  •  r-poi-.it  !>and\  •  of  the  falling 

it    ^rappliu^  with    his    foe,    and 

hv  him  in  turn,  w  .  1    downwaid    to    the   earth,  an-i 

two    lav    together  instant,    withmit     -  the 

cd  and  hleached  1  onei  of  !  nerati-Mi<.      l'»th  • 

!,h--s,    hut     tin 

ditlicultv    t!.  Med    to    then-    frt  : 

moment,  hut  only.  ;n  f'  •  renew  their  terril-le  , 

•    I.,-t  t!  D  mil  to  •  !  Morton.  I.d 

•  forth  into  the  moon'i^  .1  «io  nothing  ! 


THE    SCOUT. 

''  Ay,  anywhere  !"  was  the  reply  of  the  other;  "  but  let  it  be 
quickly  :  I  have  not  a  moment  to  spare." 

"  A  nroinent  should  suflice  for  either,  and  would  have  done  so, 
ha.!  thiTi-  been  sufficient  light  for  the  business.  So  far,  Clarence 
Conway,  you  have  had  the  matter  all  to  yourself.  But  there  is 
a  day  for  every  dog,  they  tell  us:  and,  though  still  there  be  no 
daylight,  I  trust  that  my  day  is  at  hand.  Lead  the  way;  T  am 
ready.  Lot  the  dagger  still  be  the  weapon.  It  is  a  sure  one, 
and  makes  but  little  clatter.  Besides,  it  brings  us  so  much  the 
Higher  to  each  other,  which  is  brotherly,  you  know." 

The  sterner,  perhaps  the  nobler,  features  of  the  outlaw  stood 
out  in  bolder  relief  at  the  moment  which  he  himself  bclievd 
was  one  of  the  greatest  danger.  Morton  was  not  deficient  in 
animal  courage.  It  was  only  less  frequently  apparent,  because, 
like  the  Italian,  he  preferred  the  practice  of  a  subtler  agent.  A 
fierce  laugh  concluded  his  attempt  at  playfulness.  To  this  the 
heart  of  Clarence  gave  back  no  response.  Tin  nigh  not  less 
fearless  than  his  brother  —  nay,  though  greatly  excited  by  the 
strife  —  it  yet  had,  to  his  mind,  the  aspect  of  a  horror  which  he 
could  not  complacently  behold.  The  few  moments  consumed  in 
this  brief  dialogue  had  brought,  him  back  to  those  reflections 
which  the  provocation  of  the  strife  had  almost  wholly  banished. 
But  he  Buffered  no  mental  or  moral  scruples,  at  such  a  moment, 
to  impair  his  mai-iiood. 

"^400  am  ready,"  was  his  only  answer  as  he  left  the  vault. 

He  was  followed  by  the  outlaw  ;  and  there,  in  another  moment, 

they  stood  together  on  the  green  sward  before  the  tomb,  fiercely 

.Vonting  each  other  with  eyes  of  mortal  hate  —  utterly  un- 

n.'ived  by  the  pure  and  placid  smiles  of  that  maiden  moon  whose 

cd  light  they  were  about  to  employ  for  the  most  unblessed 

purpose. 


THE  OOMBAl   OP  TIM:  r.uoiiiEBS.  218 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THK    CUM  BAT    OP   THE    BROTH KRS. 

THK  ancient  additaments  for  tlic  groundwork  of  the  grand  of 
tenible,   the    wild    or   warlike,  would    have   home   aspects   not 
unlike  their  own.     Ordinarily,  the  painter  of  the  darker  passions 
:pt   to   accompany   their  explosion  with    a   sympathetic 
:i  on  tin-  part  of  the  natural  world.     The  hero,  just  before 
committing  the-  d-.-'-d  of  blood,  stalks  upon  the  scene,  surrounded 
hy  the  gloomy  shadows  of  tlie  night ;  storm  and  thunder  attend 
upon   his   footsteps,  and   the  fiery  eyes  of  the  rebuking  heaven 
6  along  Ins  path  in  flashes  of  impetuous  lightning.     A  voice 
<>f  warning  is  heard  to  mutter  in  the  skv.      The   Moody  dagger, 
the  awful  sign  of  the  crime  which  is  already  acted   in  the  mind 
<.f  the  criminal,  hangs   in   the  air  above  him,  and    marshals  him 
the  way  that  he  must  follow;   while  the  ghosts  of  the  past  ivap- 
pear,  shaking   their   gory  locks,  to   impede  or  to  precipitate  the 
-Mike  progress  of  the  future.     All  things  are  made  to  act  in 
harmony  with    that   terrible   passion  which   has  already  thrown 
the    heart  of   the  possessor  the   uniform  "brown   horror" 
which    distmgniahefl    its  own    unvarying    aspect.      There    is    no 
Mm-  in  the  transparent  of  the  noonday  sky;   there  is  no 

living  green  in  the  fresh  swaid  of  the  luxuriant  earth  ;  the  songs 
of  the  one,  and  the  mellow  voices  of  the  other,  recei\e  their 
:•  sad  tones  wholly  from  the  desolate  or  depraved  soul 
which  speaks  in  the  bosom  of  the  fated  actor.  All  forms  and 
feat.  1  sounds,  are  made  to  correspond  with  his 

|uvvadii:_  ;   and  the  hues  of  sky  and  land   become  natu 

rally    incarnadined    by  the    bloody  mood   which    governs   in   his 
sold.      The  voices  which  he   hears,  whether  of  earth  or  sky,  are 
::om  the  -•mailing  victims,  who   start,  perhaps, 
from  the  embrace  of  jdumbrr,  to  sleep  in  that  of  death. 
But,  very  di  tie  rent    fiom   these  were  the  auxiliary  . 


214  THK  SCOUT: 

that  scene  upon  which  the  rival  kinsmen  were  about  to  contend. 
Never  was  night  more  beautiful,  mow  uniformly  beautiful  and 
tender,  in  any  one  of  its  thousand  attributes  and  agents.  The 
moon,  almost  at  her  full,  was  high  above  the  forest  tops,  and 
hallowing  its  deep  and  dim  recesses  with  innumerable  streams 
of  glory  from  her  own  celestial  fountain.  Few  were  the  cloud* 
that  gathered  about  her  path,  and  these,  sharing  in  her  gifts  of 
beauty,  became  tributary  to  her  lustrous  progress.  A  gentle 
bree/e,  rising  from  the  east,  accompanied  her  march,  and  the 
tall  pines  swayed  t.»  and  fro  beneath  its  pressure,  yielding  a 
whispering  music,  like  those  faint  utterances  of  a  sweet  com 
plaint  which  are  made  by  the  curling  billows  of  the  sea,  when 
they  break  and  die  away  in  a  languid  struggle  with  the  shore. 
These  breathings  found  lit  fellowship  in  the  gentle  murmurs  of 
the  (.'ongaree,  as  it  rippled  away  on  its  sleepless  path,  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  scene  of  strife.  Lighted  by  the  moon  above, 
its  winding  form  might  be  seen,  in  silvery  glimpses,  where  the 
vistas  of  the  woods  had  been  opened  by  that  tasteful  art  which 
had  presided  over  the  barony  from  its  first  settlement.  Nothing 
was  dark,  nothing  sad,  stern,  or  terrible,  but  the  human  agents 
of  the  scene. 

There  they  stood,  frowning  defiance  upon  each  other,  and 
looking  grim  and  ghastly,  in  the  pure,  sweet  atmosphere  of  light 
by  which  they  were  enveloped.  The  aspect  of  the  outlaw  was 
particularly  terrible,  in  consequence  of  the  wound  which  he  had 
received  in  the  mouth  at  the  beginning  of  the  conflict.  The 
upper  lip  was  divided  by  the  stroke,  the  teeth  shattered;  and 
smeared  and  clotted  with  blood,  his  face  presented  the  appear 
ance  of  one  already  stamped  with  all  the  features  of  the 
grave,  and  marked  with  an  expression  of  hate  and  passion 
which  increased  its  terrors.  That  of  tin;  partisan  was  stern,  but 
unrullled  pale,,  but  inllexible.  IJis  eye>  were  full  of  that  fiery 
energy  which,  perhaps,  distinguished  equally  the  characters  of 
the  brothers.  The  lips  were  closely  compressed,  and  resembled 
that  >\\eet  serenity,  that  resigned  and  noble  melancholy,  which 
peculiaily  distinguishes  tin-  same,  feature  in  tin-  instance  of 
nearly  every  Indian  warrior  that  we  have  ever  seen.  There 
no  faltering  in  his  soul — he  was  as  firm  of  purpose  as  his 


Till 

. 

the  outlaw  could   not    feel,  .s  not  the 

don  of  other  and  i 

•utlaw  unbuckh   1  the  sabre  from  his  *ide,  tlic  sahlo  belt, 
and  threw  them  down,  with  the  pistols  which  he  ourri. 

.  :lt.      II.  resolute  that   then-  should  ! 

;iction  to  his  movements  in  the  - 
'   :     '•  :.-•  place.      (  n  th.-  other  hand,  I 

iiition.      lie  calmly  surveyed  the  movem.  : 
.ient  \\ithoutchan_  'lions.    His  eye  glanced, 

.  with   a   i  .v   anxiety,  t<>   the   clear   blue  vault, 

•!own  upon  him  from  a' 

;urned  involuntarily,  though  for  a  single  instant  only,  to  the 
int  dwelling  of  Flora  Middleton,    Hut  i:..t  a  momen. 

timeiitalist    or    lover. 

:»od   hefore   him,  and  was  ready.      The  outlaw  had  wit- 
i  the.  direction  of  his  foeman's  eve.  and  the  words  of  prov 
ocation  gushed  from  him  in  increasing  bittern. 

"  Ay.  ;.,ok,  Clan  —look!      It  may  be  for  the  last 

:      For  that  matter  we  may  both  look;   for  I  tell  you,  there 

1]  be  no  child's  play  between  OS,      Here,  on    this   green    turf. 

un  ler   that    smiling    heaven,  shall    I    be    -  in  death, 

I    yield   up    a   single  sentiment  of  that  hate  which  mak 

that  one  of  us  should  die   for   the    peace   and   security 
of  the  other." 

.  either  for  yoi;r  peace  or  mine,  that  such 
IM-  the  (  .  inanded  (Man  ,vav. 

.y.     We  can   not  breathe   the   same 
I 

i,   their   i'eet    planted   in   opposition  — 
»ther.  and   riveted  in  g!  ,ent- 

:i fulness  and  calm.. 

'"   was  tl  M  of  the  outlaw. 

ivplV  .  be  contim.  hi* 

enemy  with  a  ,M. 

"••-:.%!—  and    «  e    stay  i"    retorted    the    other 

*  Are  you  go  goon  quiet.  >ur  stomach   revolt   at   tho 


216  .  THE  SCOUT. 

idea  of   a  final   struggle  which   shall   end    the   strife  hetweea 
us?" 

••'  It  does !" 

"  Ha !  Has  it  then  come  to  that  ?"  was  the  ironical  speech 
of  the  outlaw  ;  but  Clarence  interrupted  him  with  a  cool  firmness 
of  tone  and  look  which  disarmed  the  intended  sareaMii. 

You  may  spare  your  irony,  Edward  Morton.  That  I  fear 
yon  not,  you  should  know.  That  I  am  your  superior  in  strength 
you  have  long  since  discovered  —  that  I  am,  at  least,  your  match 
with  any  weapon  known  to  either  of  us,  you  can  not  deny ;  ana 
you  know  that  1  have  no  dread  of  death." 

"  To  what  does  all  this  tend  ?  It  means  everything  or  noth 
ing.  Grant  what  you  have  said,  still  it  does  not  follow  that  you 
shall  triumph  over  me.  You  may  slay  me,  but  I  can  grapple 
with  you,  Clarence  Conway  —  I  can  rush  upon  your  weapon. 
and,  sacrificing  myself,  succeed  in  killing  you  !  Ha  !  is  not  thai 
undeniable  also  ?" 

"  Perhaps  so  ;"  was  the  deliberate  answer.  "  But  even  tin:* 
docs  not  influence  me  in  what  I  mean  to  say.  There  is  a  con 
sideration  of  far  more  weight  which  would  make  me  avoid  this 
conflict." 

"  Ah  !  it  is  that,  eh  ?     But  you  shall   not  avoid  it !      1 
desperate  man,  Clarence  Conway,  and  such  a  man  al 
the  life  of  his  enemy  at  the  point  of  his  dagger!" 

"  Be  it  so ;  but  hear  me.  For  all  your  crimes,  all  your  hate 
and  hostility  to  me  —  all  your  treachery  to  your  country  —  still 
I  shall  find  no  pleasure  in  being  your  executioner." 

"  Indeed !  But  be  not  too  sure.  It  has  not  yet  come  to 
that!"  cried  the  other.  "There  are  two  to  play  at  this  game, 
and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  shall  turn  the  tables  upon  yon  this 
hoiit.  We  have  some  light  now  on  the  subject,  and  tl  3&e  pricks 
which  you  gave  me  in  the  dark,  have  rather  warmed  me  for  the 
conflict.  They  rather  better  my  chances,  by  rousing  me  to  the 
proper  feeling  of  strife ;  as,  to  graze  the  bear  with  a  bullet,  is 
to  make  him  more  affectionate  in  his  squeeze.  So,  look  to  it ! 
our  embrace  will  be  a  close  one.  Come  on  quickly.  We  ran 
not  too  soon  make  a  finish  no\v." 

deceive    yourself,  Edward    (Vnway  —  fatally  deceive 


Til!  217 

you:  u-li  a  fancy  ;"    replied  Clarence  s<  lemnly 

"  It  ,;n    I    shall    kill    you.      Nothing  cai: 

1  feel  it  —  I  know  it.      I  can  not  help  but  kill  you." 
"  I'Koleh!   braggart  !      But.  ;  !" 

"  1  have  said   nothing  Init   the   truth,  and  what  I  feel  must  be 
:his  st  niggle.      Hear  me   but   an   instant  more,  and 
jud-<        :        ,!1  find  no  pleasure,  in  taking  your  life.      I   can   m>l 
forget    many  things,  and    I    am    not    desperate.       II 

the  claims  of  blood  and    the  opinin- 

!v,  it  is  impossible  fur  me  to  do  .so.      For  this  reason  1  wouM 
0  the  indulgence  of  tho>e  passions,  Edward  Conway — " 
"Not  ('nn\\ay  —  Morton,  Cunningham  !  —  anything  but  Con 
v»  a\ 

\iile  of  scorn  p  M  the  lips  of  Clarence. 

••  I    thank  you  for  your  correction,"  he  said.     "But  this  is  a 

small  inatti-r.    To  return.    My  passions  and  enmities  are  scarcely 

active  than  yours ;   but  1  would  forego  their  enjoyment  be- 

ter  responsibilities.     I  now  make  you  an  offer. 

:it  ;   and  you   shall   go  free.      I  will  facilitate  your 

|  iiarle>ion  —  nay,  insure  it  —  and  you  will   then  be 

enabled,  unencumbered   by  the  villanous  banditti- to  which  y..u 

have  been  attached,  to  tly  the  country.     I   know  that  you  have 

a   hi  y    stored    away  in    Jamaica  —  enough    to    give  y<>u 

competence  for  life.      Let   that   suffice   you.      Leave  the  country 

while  the  chance  is  allowed  you  —  while  you  may  do  so  in  satr- 

;,  1   Greene  will  traverse  all  this  re- 

••  Fool    fanr  lainx'd   the  other  rudely.     "Those  are 

Uawdon's  trumpets." 

4  You  will   not    long  hear  them,  except  sounding  the  iv 
1'he  war  is  well  nLrh  over." 

••  1'shavv  !    this  is  mere  folly.      We  came  here  to  fight,  I  think. 
•ter  !      Come  on  !" 

"  1    v,  On)  :   Ml  e   \  OH-  U  !" 

"I    shall    no!    >j,are    youf      V-:ir    t'oiiceit    is  insufferable,  and 
-hall    be    whipped    out    of    yu,    by    heavens!     this    very    n'. 
,  ti.en  ;    I    long    to  .    .pittance.      "i 

head  IB  lurne  .  V'-ur   Flora,  my  Flors 


218  THI-:  SCOUT. 

—  the,  Flora  of  Congaree —  you   have  been   Irppmg,  nn»e  y«m  f 
-and  you  like  the  taste  —  sweet  flavor! — " 

"  li-'.iliaii  —  w.  ,  with  a  fury  tliat  seemed 

««  Hide  governable  now  as  tliat  of  the  outlaw,  "you  are  doomed. 
1  can  not  spare  you  now." 

11  1  a>k  you  not.      Let    the   steel    sjieak   for  botli  of  us.      Mine 
has    been    blushing   at    the    time  you  have  consumed  in  prating. 
0  (i)  —come  On  !  -  if  your  heart  were  in  it,  Clar 

ence  (  Vnwa  v,  tor,  hy  (iod's  death.  I  will  have  it  in  your  heart, 
it'  hell  has  not  grown  deaf  to  human  prayer.  Good  Made,  to 
your  work!  It  is  some  pleasure.  I  Conway.  to  know 

thai  yours  is  tolerahly  pure  blood —  at  least  it  will  do  no  dis 
honor  to  mv  claggei*." 

rrhe    struggle    followed    instantaneously.        The    outlaw    pro 
ceeded  to  act  his  declared  intentions.      His  ohject  seemed   t 
fo  get  within  the  arm  of  his  opponent  —  to  close    at    all  haxards. 
and  sacrifice  himself  in  the  bloody  determination   to  destroy  his 
enemy. 

But  Clarence  was  no  ordinary  foe.  His  anger  did  not  deprive 
him  of  his  coolne>>,  and  his  skill  with  the  weapon  was  far  be- 
yond  that  of  most  men  of  his  time.  Still,  it  required  all  his 
watchfulness  and  circumspection  —  all  his  readiness  of  eve  and 
arm  —  to  baffle  the  purpose  of  the,  other.  The.  blind  fury  of 
the  outlaw,  perhaps,  served  him  quite  as  effectually  as  did  his 
own  resources.  It  made  him  fearless,  but  not  fearful  —  full  of 
purposes  of  d-  ut  not  dangerous  —  that  is,  comparatively 

speaking  —  for,  .«-•»  long  as  the  partisan  presenel  his  CO! 
and   kept   only  on   the   defensive,  his  enemy  did    not    find    it    so 
certainly  true   as  he  had  affirmed,  that  a  desperate  man  aL 
carries   the    life    of  his    enemy  at    tne    point   of  hi.-  !!•• 

had    tried    this    more,   than   once.,  and   had  always  been  repelled 
times  with   hurts,  which  were  not  always  slight,  though,  sin 

e  dangerous. 

His  con>tant  failure  warned  him  of  the  folly  of  his  own  fury, 
ann  its  utter   ineffectiveness  to  achieve  the     .l»]rct  of  his  desires. 
He  recovered  h:m.-e!f,  and  adopted  another  pub-.-y.       He  renewed 
those   coarse    sneers    and    .nsinuations   which    had    been    alv 
effectual    in    provoking    Clarence,   and  which    had    closed    their 


T1IK    C().MIi\.     •  v      lllr 

'letorr,  and  ni  sucb 
Irably  calculated  to  throw  a  lov 
guard. 

M'U',"  hf  .said,  "that  you  have  just  • 

•  ;    hut  hn\  •  ,:lue  ?      I  tell  you,  ' 

.  it'  ever   \viniiaii    sp»ke   falsely.  Flora   Middleton    B] 

I    know  her  : 

man,  when    you    charged    me   with    having    ! 
Park,  you  knew  hut  half  the   truth.      Shall  1  tell  you   that   she 
rhen  as  indulgent  to  t:  •  >{'  the    Black    Kid- 

•een  Mm  •  moral    kinsman?      Here.  !•;. 

vault,  did   he  walk  with   her  at  evening;   and  you  know  what  it 
•uhl   know,  to  wander  among  dim  groves  at  snivel 
with  a  romantic  damsel.     frhe  heart  will  yield  then,  if  ever.      If 
\ith    the    hour,   and    melts.      Ha!    are    you    touched  — 
touched  at  ia>t  .'      Know,  then,  it  was  my  turn  to  lip  and  to  • 
.diallv — " 

reptile  !"  eried    C'lan-nee.   .-.trikinj:   at   him    t'uri- 
•»u>ly  as   he    heard    the  ,    "  Know   I    nut    that    you    ]. 

•  i   iill    her  j»ur.  ii    'U 
tho.sc  you  would  now  thru>t  into  mini 

"YOU  1  '11  of  delight, 

point  of  hi  into  the  '. 

lloh-wound  only,  hut  <>ne  in  danp-i- 

imit\  rt   that  was   now  lj«»i!in^   in   it>  m-i:rii!n-i 

•.  .".ith  felt  his  Imprudence J    hut  if  he  had  not.  tlu-r- 
;nvelliii^   friend  at  hand,  who   did   not    MitV'-r  : 
nnreminded.       .  who,  in    tl 

to  which    he   liad   eraule.!  '.ui-ee;i,  li.i 

Mto>-  ,,f  the  brief  conflict,  during  the  • 

oil    tl,.  lUlt. 

let    him  fool   you,  Clarence  ;    he's   onlv  ti". 
make  you  11  ad  —  that's   his   ti'ick.      But  don't  you    mind    iii: 

•;n  liar,  and  if  von  vou   should,  he'll    : 

lie    in  his   mouth.     Strike    a\\a\.  ' 
and   only  forget  that   you   e\'er   had  rho  was 

•    a   son    of  the  \\ronj;    brec  ''••      1'ut  it  to  him,  ami    shut 
•ip  your   nater   till    it's  all  .  >d    ha'  mercy  'pon   me.  hut 


22D  THI 

"t  C3SH13  so  nateral  for  me  now  to  want  to  put  in  and  kih 
him  !M 

"ii'.rj  you  have  brought  your  bullies  upon  me  !"  were  the 
words  of  Morton,  as  the  first  accents  of  Bannister  reached  his 
ears.  "But  I  fear  them  not!" — and  he  renewed  the  assault 
with  increased  determination ;  if  that  indeed  were  possible. 

"Keep  back  —  meddle  not,  John  Bannister!"  cried  Clarence.. 
"  T  need  no  assistance." 

"  I  krow  it,  Clarence ;  but,  Lord  love  you!  don't  git  into  a 
foolish  passion.  Go  to  it  as  ef  'twas  a  common  work  you  was 
a-doing —  splitting  rails,  or  digging  ditches,  or  throwing  up  po- 
t?.;o-hi!is.  Jest  you  hit  and  stick  as  ef  you  was  a-managing  a 
dug-out,  or  a  raft,  or  some  sich  foolish  consarn.  For  sich  a  foul- 
mouth  as  he  to  talk  agin  Miss  Flora!  Why,  it's  as  foolish  as  a 
wolf  to  bark  at  the  moonlight.  But  don't  let  me  interrupt  you. 
(}o  to  it !  I'm  jest  a-looking  on  to  see  the  eend,  and  obsarve 
'air  play  ;  only  make  haste,  Clarence;  shut  him  up  as  soon  as 
you  can,  for  the  bugle's  a  sounding  from  the  head  of  the  avenue, 
and  there's  little  time  to  lose." 

The  warning  was  not  to  be  disregarded,  and  Clarence  Con- 
\vay  soon  brought  the  strife,  to  an  issue.  The  resumption  of  his 
caution  provoked  the  outlaw  into  a  renewal  of  his  rashness,  and 
his  dagger-hand  wa>  caught  in  the  grasp  of  the  partisan  at  the 
same  moment  when  the  weapon  of  the  other  sunk  into  his  breast. 
Clarence  relaxed  his  hold  upon  his  victim  the  instant  that  the 
Mow  was  delivered  He  fancied  that  he  had  given  him  the 
•  •mi ft  (U-  gran-  as  he  intended  ;  and  a  strange,  keen,  sudden  pang 
rushed  like  lightning  through  his  own  bosom. 

The  outl-iv,  meanwhile,  felt  himself  about  to  fall.  A  faint- 
ness  co\e:vd  his  frame;  his  sight  was  growing  dark;  and,  with 
the  last  convulsive  moment  of  reflection,  he  threw  himself  for 
wan!  upon  the  breast  of  his  enemy,  whose  dagger-point  was  no\\ 
turned  toward  the  ground.  His  left  arm  was  tightly  clasped 
about  the  form  of  Clarence;  while  his  right,  with  all  the  remain 
ing  consciousness  of  his  mind,  and  the  concentrated,  but  fa.-t 
failing  vigor  of  his  frame,  addressed  a  blow  at  the  heart  of  the 
latter,  which  it  needed  sullicient  strength  only  to  render  fatal. 

But  the  arm  of  the  outlaw  sank  down  in  the  effort  ere  the 


_'er    reached    its    in;irk.      His    hold    tt] 
1,  and    !,<  .riii£  at  t! 

tlu«  latter  had   sulnViently  recovered    from   the   horror  which    1«« 

.  tt>  l-o  alt  ' "us  of  tli-  iVi.in  which  li. 

ped,      With  tvrrv  justification  for  the.  deed  which, 
could   bring,  lie  yet  felt  how  full  of  pain  and  sorrow,  if  n 
crime,  was  the  shedding  of  a  brother's  blood. 


0 E AFTER  x x. 

CAPRICES    OF    FOKTI 

WK  have  omitted,  in  the  proper  place,  to  record  certain  events 
that  happened,  during  the.   j  ..iiict.  in  order  that 

nothing   idiould    retard  the    narrative  of  tl 
had   reached   its  termination,  and  while   il 
mea.Mire  doubtful,  a   new  party  came   upon   the   scene.  wli«- 
Bfl  our  attention,  and   commanded   that  of  the  faithful  v. 
man.     Aery  —  a  soft  but  piercing   ray-   -unheard   by  eith. 
the  combatants,  first  drew  the    >  '•  former  to  tl 

boring  wood  from  which   it   issued  ;   ami,  >imultaneou>ly,  a  - 
der   form    darted  out   of  th.  nd    hurried    forward   i; 

direction  :mi>ter    '.  kely  put    himself  iu 

-  to  prevent  any  interi'eiviu  <  the  jian' 

when  he  saw  the  stranger  pi^hin,:  {'-rward,  and  wielding  a  jrlit- 
ter'm^  ueapon  in  his  i^rasji,  as  he    advanced,  in-    ru-hed  iV-.m  hi> 

raiment,  and   threw  himself  directly  in  the  pathw., 
the  intruder.      Th.- 
ni.ster  c"iin:iain!e  i  him  to  -'and. 

k  !"  sai.l  the   latter,  "  hack,  my  lad,  till  i 
won't  he  Ion-  DOW,   1   warrant   you.      They'll 

until  they' vi-  done " 

11-  dre.w  a  pi>t«d    from    hi->    lu-lt,  which    h. 

and  thus  clo>cd  the  sentence.     'I  ck  at 

this  Midden   and   sturdv  iuterniption  ;   but,  reco\ -ering  a  m- 


---'  Th 

after,  appeared  determined  to  press  forward.     The  second  warn 
ing  of  the  scout  was  more  imperative  than  the  first. 

ml  hack.  1  fell  vim  !"  cried  the  resolute  woodman,  "  01 
8,  I'll  .send  daylight  and  moonlight  both  through  \  m: 
with  an  ounce  bullet.  I  ain't  trilling  with  yon,  stranger ;  be 
Kartin,  I'm  serious  enough  when  I  take  pistol  in  hand.  Back,  I 
tell  you,  till  the  tug's  over,  and  then  you  may  sec  and  be  seen. 
31 '.ve  another  step  and  I'll  flatten  you." 

"Xn,  no,  no!"  was  the  incoherent  response;  "let  me  pass! 
I  //•///  pass  !" 

The  sounds  which  assured  the  woodman  of  the  determination 
of  the  stranger,  were  so  faintly  and  breathlessly  articulated, 
that,  at  any  other  time,  Jack  Bannister  would  have  only  laughed 
at  the  ob.-.ti  ate  purpose  which  they  declared;  but  the  moment 
wa.  t  o  •  •  clous  tor  his  friend,  and  he  was  too  earnest  in  secu 
ring  lair  play  for  all  parties,  not  to  regard  their  tenor  rather  than 
their  ; 

••  If  you  do.  I'll  <1  as  sure  as  a  gun  !"  was  his  answer. 

•'They  will   kill  him  ! "  murmured  the  stranger,  in  accents  of 

utter   despondency.     He   struck  his  head  with   his   palm   in   a 

manner  of  the  dee]  then,  as  if  seized  with  a  new  imjitil.se, 

\\aved  a  dagger  in  the  air,  ami  darted  upon  the,  woodman. 

So  Midden  wa*  the  movement  and  unexpected,  that  Bannister 

•r  thought  to  >li«M.f.  bnt,  clubbing  his  pistol,  he  dealt  th< 

sailant  a  blo\v  upon  the  :-k'ill,  which  laid  him  prostrate.      A  faint 

cry  ex-aped  the  li;  :h  in  falling;   and  Bannister  fan- 

:liat    liis   osvn    nan.  \  a  part  of  its   burden.      He  was 

-nrpris.-d  \vlien  he  recollected  that  the  enemy,  though  rush- 

.11   him  with  a  ;ad   yet    forborne  to  use  it,  although 

•ient  opportunity  had   been   allowed   him  to  do  so,  had  such 

hi.s  jiurposc,  in  the  siirjni.-e  orca^ioneil  b}-  bis  tirst  onslanglit. 

;he  moment  was    not   one  f  .    to  reliection.      (Marencu 

his  enemy,  who  wa-  prostrate  and  in>ensible  ; 

waa  brnding    over  him   in  a  fruitless  effort  to 

h    the    blood  which    isnied    IVoin  a  deep  wound  on  the  side. 

Banni.ster  appioached  him  with  the  inquiry  — 

"(iod  he,  thanked,  Clarence,  that  you  arc  uppermost.  How 
is  it  with  him  (  Is  he  dead  /" 


CAT  223 

"I    hi.pf    n..t.      Hi-   1  -till.     There    is   Motion   in   his 

heart' 

«]•  f,,r   it,  (Marcnrc.      I    iiin't    MMTV   that    you    lia'n't 

killed   him,  for    I'd   rather  you  shouldn't  do  it  ;   hut  I'm    mi-hty 
;d.      It'll   he   all   the  letter  for  him   if  he  is. 
a  neck  -mooth  to   the   last,      Hut   come,  there's  a 
>tir  at  the  house       1  can  hear  the  voices." 
"  But  we  can  imt  leave  him  here,  Jack.     Something  mus- 

bim,      \V-uld  to  God  I  had  never  seen  him,  for  I  feel 
wretched.  no\v  that  it's  all  over." 

t  a  time   to    iVel   such   feelinirs.     You  couldn't   help  it, 

Clarence,     He   would   force   it  upon  you.     Didn't   1    hear  him 

,ikin-  here.      We  must  hru>li  up  and 

he  doin-:.      [Ve    iriven  a  knock  to  a  chap   here,  that's   laid   him 
out  ui  laid   the  other.      A  small    chap  he  wa>.      I 

mi-rht    have    .-topped    him,    I'm    thinking,  with    a    lighter  hand, 
hut   1  hadn't  time  to  think,  he  jumped  so  spry  upon  me." 
••  Who  is  he?"  demande«l  Clarence. 

"1  don't  know;  a  friend  to  Edward  Conway.  looking  after 
him.  I  reckon.  I'll  see  all  ahout  him  directly,  when  once  you're 
off.  But  yon  must  trot  at  once.  There's  a  mighty  stir  all 
about  the  house,  and  I'm  thinking,  more  than  once,  that  I've 

hearn  a  whoo-whoop-halloo,  below  A«r  in  the  direction  of 

Hats.      'T\va-   a    i  >rt  of  whoop  for   an   owl   to 

make,  am!  I'm  juh'ous  'twa'n't  one  that  had  a  good  schoolmaster 

nateral." 

M  \\  wt,  to  do  with  him  .'"  demanded  Clarence,  as  he 

d  with  an  aspect  of  complete  bewilderment,  now  at  the  hody 
of  hi-  kin-Mian,  and  now  at  the  distant  mansion. 

..  1),,;       I    tak-  |efl    the    rea>onahle  time  to  hearken  to 

tlu,    ^ordl    <^:  :    '  l-''t    the    dead    hury    their    .lead;'    and 

ll,,,u--ii  I  i-.-ui  'MOW  they're  to  set  ahout  it,  yet,  \\  hei. 

.  hard  pn.shed  ,  J    well  to  put  upon   holy 

ch   ditlicuh  ,t   hy  our 

own  I'm    thinkii  lay   him   (piietly  in  the 

vault  and  leave  him." 

»•  Hut  he's  n..:  -nd  with  > 

"M ore's   the    pity       It's  better  for  you  and    me,  and    1 


'  Tin-;  SCOUT. 

too,  if  lie  don  t  iocover  ;  and  it  serins  to  me  very  unilateral  thai 
you  should  take  pains  first  to  put  him  to  death,  ;uid  the  next 
moment  worry  yourself  to  bring  him  to  life  again." 

"  I  took  no  such  pains,  Bannister.  I  would  not  have  struck 
him  if  I  could  have  avoided  the  necessity,  and  I  strove  t» 
avoid  making  his  wounds  fatal." 

"I'm  sorry  for  that  agin.     But  this  ain't  no  time  for  palav< -. 
ing.     You'll   soon  have   these  dragoons  of  Coffin  scouring  tie..- 
grounds  of  the,  barony,  and   llawdon's  too  good  a  soldier  not  to 
h,\vc  his  scouts  out  for  three  good  miles  round  it.     Them  tnna 
pet.1-  that  we  hear  are  talking  some  such  language  now;  and  wo 
iiMst  ride  pretty  soon,  or  we'll  be  in  a  swamp,  the  waters  rising, 
tin  dug-out  gone,  and  a  mighty  thick  harricane  growing  in  the 
west." 

•  I  can  not  think  of  leaving  the  body  thus,  Bannister." 

"And  }  on  resk  your  own  body  and  soul  — or  your  own  body, 
which  is  pretty  much  the  soul  of  the  '  Congaree  Blues'  —  ef  you 
sstop  to  take  care  of  him,"  replied  the  woodman. 

•'  What  are  we  to  do  ?" 

14  Clarence,  trust  to  me.  Take  your  horse — you'll  find  him 
in  that  hollow  —  and  get  to  the  head  of  the  troop  before  Coffin's 
hoofs  tread  upon  its  tail.  I'll  be  mighty  soon  after  you ;  but 
before  1  start,  I'll  give  'em  a  blast  of  my  horn,  and  a  scare  from 
my  puppy-dog  here"  —  meaning  his  pistol  —  "  which  '11  be  pretty 
sure  to  bring  a  dozen  of  'em  on  my  track.  When  they  come 
here,  they'll  find  the  body  of  Edward  Conway,  and  this  lad 
that  I  flattened  ;  and  they  can  do  for  'em  all  that's  needful. 
I'm  a  hoping  that  this  here  person,"  pointing  to  the  chief  of  the 
Black  Riders,  "  is  out  of  his  misery  for  ever,  and  won't  trouble 
the  snrgeont  with  much  feeling  of  his  hurts.  As  for  the  otliei 
lad,  I  don't  think  I  could  ha'  hurt  him  much  with  the  butt  only, 
though  I  struck  him  mighty  quick,  and  without  axing  how 
much  or  bow  little  he  could  stand.  Trust  to  me,  Clarence,  and 
go  ahead," 

Obviously,  this  was  the  only  course  to  be  pursued  in  jrder  to 
reconcile,  the  duties  and  desires  which  the  partisan  entertained 
lie.  took  not  a  single  further  look  at.  his  enemy,  whose  grim  and 
ghastly  features,  turned  upward  in  the  moonlight,  presented  an 


r  more   fearful    than  any  which   the  simple  appearance 
ath  could  present;   and,  with  a  few  [  Erec 

tion  to  the  woodman,  he   hurried   away  to  the   h.ill.,w  when 
liorse  had   hern  concealr d.      In  a  few  moments  after,  t: 
Bannister  rejoiced,  as  his  ear  caught  tlie  slo\v  movement  o|'  his 
departing  hoofs. 

The  hold  fellow  then  —  hefore  jnittii  •.. 

'arming  the  British  at  tlie  mansion  and  bringing  them  down 
upon  the  spot  —  true  to  the   business  of  the  smut. 
in   the  direction  of  the  dwelling,  in    order    to   ascertain  wh: 
could,  as   to  the  disposition  and  strength  of  the  force  which  h;:d 
come    and    was   still    advancing.      A   perfect    knowledge,   of  the 
place,  its   point"  of  retreat   and   places  of  ^heifer,  enabled    him 
•id',  a  station  where   he   saw  quite,   as   much   as  he  desired, 
"f  men,  were  evidently  drawn  up  a  ; 
.-•lung  the  avenue,  for  the  reception  of  the  commander- 
in-chief;    and  while    Bannister   admired   their   array,  and    noted 
th"    stealthy    i-auti.in    which    marked    their   move!: 

te  to  count  their  numbers  with  tolerable  certainty. 
re    than  they  told    me,"  he  muttered   to  himself;   "but  .. 
good  ambu>hment  will  make  up  the  diih  . 
a  til-'. 

.-itistied    his  curiosity,  and    perceiving  that  the  ma::: 

body  of  the  British  army  was  at  hand,  he  !  himself  with 

•li  soldi'-rl/  admiration,  the  fine  appearance  "f  the 

B    b.,dy  eonsistiog    chielly  of  th  then 

ly  arrivi-d    from    Ku-ojie  —  ami   the   excellent  :heir 

inarch ;    and  then 

Ifbere  he  had  left  the  wounded. 

.;iing  with    as   vtralthy  -is  at    his  departure, 

h.'  \\as  surprised  to  discover  th.r  i.^m 

h««    had    knocked    down  wa-  lie  had    b •:'•   rt       A 

Bl  i'de  curiosity  filled    his    oo.-om  to 

His  conduct  bad  -newhat  n 

-ure,  that  when    he  inflicted    the    blow  v.hich 
l.iid    him  prostrate,  the    stranger  had  uttered  his  «.wn  D 
•  ling  ;    and  that,  to,.,  j],    Umei    wh:.-! 
nor  those  of  an  enemy.      11  tliat  ilns 


--»'»  THE    SCOUT. 

.-•Hi  had  feigned  imconx-iousness,  but  had  taken  advantage  of 
his  momentary  absence  to  steal  oil'  into  the  contiguous  woods 
To  seek  him  there  under  present  circumstances,  and  with  so 

•  time  as  was  allowed   him,  would   lie  an  idle  attempt  ;    and 
the  \\oo.lrnan,  with   some  disappointment,  turned  once  more  !.• 
ti.e  spot  where  the  outlaw  was  lying. 

To  his  surprise,  he   found  a  second  person  with   him.  whom   a 

•  •r  glance  discovered   to  he  the  very  person  whose  absence 
he    had    regretted.      'Flic  stranger  was   lying  upon  the   body  of 
Kdward    Morton,  and   seemingly   as   lifeless  as  himself:    hut  he 
started  np  when  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  Bannister,  and  made 
a  feel ile  attempt  to  rise   from  the  ground,  hut   fell   forward  with 
an  expn^sion  of  }¥iiii,  and  once  more  lay  quiescent  upon   the 
body  of  the  outlaw. 

The  scout  drew  nigh  ami  addressed  the  youth  with  an  accent 
of  excessive  kindness;  for  the  milk  of  a  gentle  as  well  as  a 
generous  nature,  flowing  in  his  heart  from  the  beginning,  had 
not  been  altogether  turned  by  the  cruel  necessities  of  the  war 
fare  in  which  he  was  engaged,  lint,  though  lie  sp.,\e  the  kii.  1- 
est  words  of  consolation  and  encouragement  known  to  his  v  •<  .•!>- 
ulary,  and  in  the  kindest  tones,  he  received  no  answer.  The. 
youth  lay  In  a  condition  of  equal  stillness  with  him  whose  body 
he  seemed  resolved  to  cover  with  his  own. 

Banni>ter  readily  conceived  that  he  "lad  swoor.ed.  He  ad 
vanced  accordingly,  stooped  down,  and  turned  the  lace  to  the 
moonlight.  It  was  a  fair  face  and  very  pale,  except  where  two 
livid  streaks  \vere  drawn  by  the  now  clotted  blood,  which  had 
ued  from  beneath  the  black  i"nr  cap  \\hich  he  wore.  This, 
upon  examination,  the  scout  found  to  be  cut  by  the  pistol-lilou 
which  he  had  given  ;  and  it  was  with  a  shivering  M-n^ition  of 
horror,  to  him  very  unusual,  tl  IT,  when  lie  preyed  lightly  v.ith 
his  linger  upon  the.  skull  belov,  it  felt  soil  and  pulpy. 

••  Li-id  forgive  me!"  w.is  the  involuntary  ejaculation  of 
\\oodman  — "Lord  forgive  me,  if  I  have  hit  the  poor  lad 
\ard  a  blow." 

His  annoyance  increased  as  he  beheld  t'-.e  slight 
person  of  the  youth. 

"There  wa.s  no  n  KSdceSSlty  to  USC  the  pistil.  po<-r  fellow.    A  fisl 


hi. ,\\-  \\uul  !  li  him  quiet  " — 

muttering  thus  ;if  inteiv.-ds.  he  proceeded   to  antic  the  sti 

wrere 

ned    helow    the   chin  ;    and,   in   his   anxiety   and    ' 
'man,  whose  finders  in;iy  r. 

better  fitted  for  an]  licate  busi  rrived  to  m. 

slip   into  a   knot,  which   his  hunting  knife  was  finally  emp! 

te. 

fl'ho    cap  ;    and    in 

t  li.M-d  at  it>  siii'-'th.  silk-lik.  -  and 

..•d    his   ii .'. 

when,  lu..kinir  ni(  •  --i\v  in  the  fair  li^ht  of  tin-  niocii, 

the  hii;'li  narrow  >\-'.iite  forehead  in  connection  with  the.  other  fea 
ture*  of  the   i'  linfnl  conject"  thrnujrh 

and  with   treninlo  and  a  convulsive  {'eeli: 

.".jip!  he  tore  Open  the  '  ..1  sahle  which  the 

nnc«  enon  wrote,  and  tl  mournful  truth  tla- 

upon  his  soul. 

"(Jod  ha'  mercy,  it  is  a  woman! — it  is  she  —  it  is  po«.r  Mary 
Mar\  —  M  ,  anil  h-ok  up. 

Don'  id  —  it's  me.  Jack  l>ai.. 

old    friend,   ymu-   lather's   fiien<l.      (Jod    1  !      Slie   don't 

-he  don't  hoar— ^ she  can*(  speak.     It'  1  should  ha*  hi<  t<m 

hard  !   if  I  should  ha*  hit  too  hard." 

The  ;  :'  the  houe>t  fcllov. 

•  tiiu  of  his  oun  uumeditated  hlou-  wt)uld  he  ii 

'oh-.      He  Bai  down  on  the  sward  and  took  her  he;.  law. 

and    clasped    her    i  1  laid  hi.- 

i,  with  return!;  in  mured 

i:t  words.  hU  delight  \\  tic. 

He  now  laid  her  down  tenderly,    an  ' 
which    trickled    from    the    i'no{    i.f   the    hill,  \\itli    tl 
\\hich  he  irai  \\<dl  acijuaii.t.     .       \    .•••unl  lnni_ 

h  «.f  a  tlee  t!. 

•OQOped  full  "f  water,  and  ran  hack  to  the  unl 
had  during    1 

know  th  :ie  v,  ;;s    l'U-y    in    the  \\ork  aud 

kii.di. 


228  THK   SCOUT. 

'•"No.  DO,"  site  mutt'-red,  "  iniiitl  not  me  —  go  to  him — him! 
Save  him  before  they  kill  him.'' 

11  Him,  in  do  od  !  N«.  !  Lot  him  wait.  He  can  afford  to  do  it, 
for  I  reckon  it's  all  over  with  him.  But  you,  Mary,  dear  Marv  : 
toll  mo,  Mary,  that  you  are  not  much  hurt  —  tell  me  that  you 
know  me;  it  was  I  who  hurt  you;  I  —  your  old  friend,  John 
Bannister,  Mary  ;  hut  it's  a  God's  truth,  I  didn't  know  you  then. 
I'd  ha'  cut  off  my  right  arm  first,  Mary,  before  it  should  ever 
liavo  given  pain  to  you." 

"Leave  mo,  if  you  have  mercy  —  I  don't  want  your  help  ; 
you  can't  help  me  —  no!  no!  Go  to  him.  lie  will  bleed  to 
doath  while  you  aiv  talking." 

"  Don't  toll  me  to  leave  you,  Mary ;  and  don't  trouble  your 
self  about  him.  He'll  have  all  the  help  he  needs — all  he  de 
serves  ;  but  you!  look  up,  dear  Mary,  and  tell  me  if  you  know 
mo.  I  am  still  your  friend,  Mary — your  father's  friend." 

The.  mention  of  her  father  seemed  to  increase  her  sufferings. 

"  No  !  no  !  —  not  that !"  —  she  muttered  bitterly  ;  and  writhing 
about  with  an  effort  that  seemed  to  exhaust  all  her  remaining 
.strength,  she  turned  her  face  upon  the  ground,  where  she  lay 
insensible. 

Never  was  mortal  more  miserable  or  more  beAvildered  than 
our  worthy  scout.  He  now  suffered  from  all  the  feelings,  the 
doubt  and  indecision,  which  had  beset  his  commander  but  a  little 
while  before.  To  remain  was  to  risk  being  made  a  prisoner; 
yet  t<»  leave,  the  p*oor  victim  of  his  own  random  blow,  in  her 
present  condition,  was  as  painful  to  his  own  sense  of  humanity 
as  it  was  unendurable  by  that  tender  feeling  which,  as  we  have 
already  intimated,  pi.sx'SM'd  his  heart  in  an  earlier  day  for  the 
frail  victim  of  another's  perfidy.  This  feeling  her  subsequent 
dishonor  had  not  wholly  obliterated  ;  and  he  now  ga/ed  with  a 
son  of  stupid  sorrow  upon  the  motionless  form  before  him,  until 
h/'s  big,  slow  gathering  tears  fell  thick  upon  her  neck,  which  his 
arm  partially  sustained;  while  his  fingers  turned  over  the  lon^ 
silken  hair,  portions  of  which  urre  matted  with  her  blood,  in 
a  manner  which  betrayed  something  f.f  a  mental  self-abandon 
rnent  —  a  total  forgotiulncss  of  duty  and  prudence  —  on  the  part 
of  one  of  the  hardiest  scouts  in  the  whole  Congarec  country. 


229 

How  long  In   might  lu  i  in  ihis  puij 

n,  iV'iiu  without,  awakened  him  to  a 

•iy  u"t  he  conjectured.      In 
man  were  sensibly  di- 

:!i  were  1 

•  •ver  lior  tears  and  treasures,  and 
..lid  trial  wore   all   MKI- 

d, 

In  t;  vein   h«    half  forgot    the  near  noighboih 

>:d  ;!ic  dangers  which  awaited  him  in  the  event  of 

it  'remembered,  of  no  com- 

kind.     It  was  i:«.t  then  the  mere  prospect  of  restraint  which 
!  the  rebel  if  taken  prisoner.     The  sanguinar. 

1  with  blood  ;   and  it  is  strongly  probable 

executions  oi'  which  the  British  coinniandeis 

•\  iis  the  M.uth,  were  sunietimes  ])ronij>ted 

lire    t.)    ennriliate   tlie  loyalists,  of  the  same,  region,  who 

:lfy,aiul  personal  revenges  to  w. 
whic-l:  tlfificd  in  scarcely  any  other  way. 

Of  tli.--  •        •  idman  wa§  made  most  m 

i'V  hearing  the  tones  and  language  of  mi!' 
.;and  i'limediatrly  hehind  him.      A  guard  was  evidently  ap- 
•  hout   to   he   placed,  and  the.  sounds 

which  startled  him  on  one   side  were  echoed  and   str.-.n-. -lv  an- 
sudden    clamor    of   a  most    unmilitary    ch;u. 

rly  the   same   infant,  from   the   swan.|,s   and 
li  lay  along  the  riv.-r  a  f<-w  hundred  yan; 

•  xjdained  the  mystery  of  tl. 

h  to  hear;   but  such  was  not 

'  •  -mentary  ;   and  when  ohvi- 

iu  <-xi>ressi..ns  which  now  denote)  a  wander- 

'il'^'l  the  he.  scout   as  ho  rose  to  hiti 

r   tenderly  in   his  arm--,  and   hore    1-er   toward    the 
the  i-ntranco   of  which  he  laid  her   -ei.tly  down,  in 
!  \\hirh    I,,-   knew  would  make  i  icuous  to  the  , 

He  had   hardy  ffl 
1  still   bending  over  her  with  a  last  look 


TUI-: 

tiic    expression   of  which,   though    unseen    liy    any,   .-poke   more 
effectually  the  anguish  which  In-  felt,  than  conld  over  have  1 
conveyed  by  the  rude,  and  simple  la;.  .  when  he 

felt  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder — a  <jnick. 
hy  the  sounds  of  a  voice,  which  it  soon  appeared  ; 

"Oh!  ho!      Caught   at    last,   Supple  .Jack;    Supple-,  the  fa 
mous!     Your  limbs  will  scarcely  help  you  uow.     You  arc  my 
tier." 

"Not  so  fast,  Watson  Gray  —  I  know  you  "'  replied  the  scout, 
as  he  started  to  his  i'eet   and  made,  an  ett'ort  to  turn  ;   but  hi- 
emy  had  grappled  him  from  behind,  had  pinioned  his  arms 

p  from  limbs  as   full    of  muscle  as  his  cr.vn,  and  wa- 
fairly  mounted  upon  his  back. 

"  Andyrr/ me  too,  Jack  Bannister,  I  think.     There's  . 
ling  loose,  my  boy,  and  your  i»nly  nay  is  to  keep  (juiet.     r\". 
are,  twenty  Hessians  at  my  haek  to  help  me,  and  as  many  Irish." 

•*  More  than  enough,  Watson  Gray,  for  a  poor  Congaive  boat 
man.  But  you're  ivther  vent'rous.  I'm  thinking,  to  begin  the 
attack.  You  ought  to  ha'  waited  for  a  Tilth'  more  help,  Watson 
Gray.  You're  rather  a  small  build  of  a  man,  if  my  memory 
sarves  me  rightly  —  you  ha'n't  half  of  my  hei't,  and  can't  suivly 
think  to  manage  me." 

"  I  do.  indeed!"  was  the  answer.  "  If  I'm  light,  you'll  find 
me  strung — -trong  enough  to  keep  your  nrmr.  fast  till  my  wild 
Irish  come  up,  and  lay  you  backward." 

••  Well,  thai  may  be,  Watson.  But  my  arms  ain't  my  le^, 
my  lad.  Keep  iticm,  if  you  can." 

Thus    speaking,   greatly    to    the    surprise    of  the    assailant,  he 
grasped  the  enclasping  arms  of  the  Li'ter  with  his  muscular  fin 
gers,  held    tl  em  with    a    hold    as    unyielding   as   their   o\vn.  ai  d 
rising  erect,  set  ofV,  at  a  smart  canter  down  the  hill  in  the  <; 
tion   of  the   river.      This   proceeding  was   one  which  had  ionn«-(l 
no   part   of  Watson    Gray's    calculations;    and    he    beca. 
denly  and  awkwardly  a  ware:  that  there  v,  as  an  unpleasant  chain.-- 
in  the  relations  "f  tiie  part;. 

**The    boot's    on    t'other    leg,    I'm    think' 

chuckled   our   scout    pi  To  this  ojVen-  -ti  .D 

the    other    had    no    answer,  in    words;    h-it    In-   employed    all    hi» 


•[•'    FORTUNE. 

v.  ith  tin-  ••  \trieatinp1  himself  from   the 

lie  li;nl  .-(•  indiscreetly  mounted.      Hut  flu 

performance  and  the  dt'siiv,  arc  notoriously  very  different  tiling. 

In    spite    of  all    h  lea,  Jack    Bannister    kept  mi  his  way 

down  hill,  and  Watson  (Iray,  perforce,  kept    in  his  nneasv  pla<-i- 

•  '.'.n.      He    had    not    calculated    ////   the    resources   of    h:lf 

.list,  and   no\v   curbed  himself   tor  his  overweening 

confidence  in  his  own. 

-  hut  nateral  that    you   should  kick   and  worry,  at    ridm,' 
n  n;i«r  that  you  ha'n't  hitted,  Watson  (iray,  hut    it's   of  no   use; 
you're  fairly  mounted,  and  there's  no  u'ettin-j;  otV  in  a  hurry," 
>!inu'  lan^tia-'t'  of  the    scout    as   he  ran  toward  the  « 
v.  iili  his  raj. live.      "I    sec    that    you   never  hearn  of  the  «!.•! 

!:akin^    hands  with    a    Idack    hear.      The  danger  is  that  you 
can';  -A  lion    you    want    to.      A    Idack    hear  Man 

animal,  that  he  lutvrr  likes  to  -i\  e  up  ;•  ^ood  acquaintance,  and 
he'll  hold  on,  paw  f<>r  paw  with  you,  and  ruhhin^  noses  when 
lie  ran,  though  it's  the  roii^lio^t  tree  in  the  swamp  that  stands 
up  i  liim  ami  his  iVicnd.  Your  amis  and  shonldr:  1 

reckon,    ;  U   ^ood   and    strong    as    tnine.       Hut   your  1 

Lrot  the  weight,  and    I    conld  carry  you  all  day.  mi  a  pinch, 
ami  !    the    Wtime    for   it.      You  see  Imw  ea>y  we  -M  to- 

••  1  > — n    you,    for    a    cunning    «levil."    cried    the    emharra- 
.  kicking  and    tlounderin-   i-iirioiisly,  hut  vainly  striving  to 

•  Pon't  you  cilice,  Watson  Cray  ;  —  it    sort  o1  makes  you 

r  on  my  ijua; 

••  Let  me  ii.iun.  1'anni.ster,  and   you   may  ^o   free,  and   to   the 
devil  where  you  c.r  ]«•  trom." 

'  Well,  you're  too  <o>nd.       Volfll  let   me   -o  j'ree  .' — I'm  thilik- 
;n\'  prisoner,  mv  l»ov.      I'll  j»arole  von  a- 
ii  my  critter." 
•'  I'll    shout    to    the    Hessian^  to  shoot  you  as  ymi  mi:.' 

d  the  lit:  • 

•'  Will    you.    then.      You    don't    consider    that    your    hack    will 
feel    the   hull  'e    a    cuniiJiu'    man.    ^^ 

lid  you  v.  .r   1  know'd  in  the 


THK    BCODT, 

Congarce  country,  ami  it's  a  long  time  since  we've  been 
dodging  after  one  another.  I  was  a  little  jub'ous,  I  confess,  that 
you  were  a  bettor  man  than  myself.  I  was  :  hut  you  made  a 
poor  fist  of  this  business —  a  poor  pair  of  fists,  I  mav  sav,"  eon- 
eluded  the  woodman  with  a  chuckle. 

"So  I  did  —  a  d — d  poor  husiuess  of  it!"  groaned  the  other 
"I  should  have  put  my  knife  into  your  ribs,  or  had  the    » 
round  you  first." 

'•  The  knife's  a  had  business,  Watson,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
other;  —  "a  good  scout,  that's  not  onnatural,  never  uses  it  when 
le.-s  hurtful  things  will  answer.  But  it's  true  you  should  ha' 
put  your  Hessians  between  me  and  the  woods  before  you  cried 
out  '  you're  my  prisoner  !'  If  ever  a  man  jumps  into  detarmina- 
tion  at  all,  it's  jist  when  he  hears  some  such  ugly  words,  on  a 
sudden,  in  his  ears:  and  when  1  felt  you.  riding  so  snugly  on 
my  back,  I  know'd  J  had  you,  and  could  ha'  sworn  it." 

A  desperate  effort  to  effect  his  release,  which  Watson  (I  ray 
made  at  this  time,  put  a  slop  to  the  complacent  speech  of  th.< 
other,  and  made  him  less  indulgent. 

"I'll  cure  your  kicking,  my  lad,"  said  he,  as,  backing  himself 
against  a  pine-tree,  he,  subjected  his  involuntary  burden  to  6 
succession  of  the  hardest  thumps  which  he,  truld  inflict  upoi 
him,  by  driving  his  body  with  all  its  force  against  the  incorrigi 
hie  and  knotty  giant  of  the  forests.  The  gasping  of  the  cap 
tive,  which  ensued,  suliiciently  attested  the  success  of  thi« 
measure;  and  an  attempt  which  (Jray  made,  a  moment  or  <\vo 
after,  to  get  the  ear  of  Supple  Jack  within  his  teeth  —  which 
was  answered  by  a  butt  (hat  almost  ruined  his  whole  jaw  —  ter- 
ied  the  fruitless  endeavors  of  the,  former  to  free  himself 

from  his  awkward  predicament. 

Mi-.-'iiwhile,  the  stir  and  confusion  were  li  :reasing  behind  the 
fugitives,  and  it  was  a  wonder  to  both  that  tV-v  had  not  been 

,;ed.       The    sounds,    imperfectly    In-  .  !    by    the    woodman. 

I  ed  to  be  those  of  actual  Conflict  J    \m-  <,in:.-elf  secure, 

and  his  thoughts  re\ertrd,  over  all,  '  >r    Mary  Clar!. 

—  the  victim   of  the   outlaw  uith  whom    -lie   had    bn-n  In'i.  and, 

perhaps,  his  own  victim.     The  poor  felloe  ;  himself  with 

horror  when  he  thought  of  the  cruel  blow  his  h<:»nd  had  inflicted 


-VE. 

But    ho    had    no    time   for  t!  .d  the.  ,lr 

:  -ining  his  commander,  nerved  i.iin  to 
He  had    now  reached   the  pl,-; 

l'('alt;tl-     II;^  •  pitch  his  captive 

I  ;   which    he   did  1  ,„   the,    latter.      In    the 

next   moment,  !  a  kn<  ,,(1  wit],  . 

his   month,  he    m. 

These  only  of  two   him-'  ,, [  an 

ortli  Ecel  pistol.     II.-  then  rilled  his  p, 

tnerously 

.  \Yatso,,    Gray,  you're   a    C 

ef   I've    thumped    you    a    little   hard  as  we  run,  put  it  ' 
0  the  needd  and  not  ! 

.      I'll    let   you    off  now,  OD  :-ole,  that    \>.,n   ma-. 

-  and  help  Ned  Conway.      You've   been   his   1,  |j 

'v  l.mg   time,  and    you've  done   for  him  a  pn 

He'll  need  more  help  now,  I'm  thin!. 

than    you    can    -ive    him.     There's  a   pool  boy  there— too— a 
.-   slender   chap,  that    1    hit  with   a'mo>t  '    Uid, 

Pin  aleard,  and  if  you  can  do  anything  for  her " 

"E  id  the  otl, 

MOli,ye8— the  truth-will  out— she's  a  -al  t!^,,.-!,  ;„  no  gal's 

clothes.     Perhaps  you  know  her.     JTon  ought  to  know 

enough  ..f  Ned  Conway'..  wickedness  to  tcno*  that     Take 

of  that  -al,  \Vat>«,n  Gray,  and    if  phy,ic    can   do    ]^,-    . 
l;i;l1  I    it-      I    ax    it   of  you  as  a   favor.      \ 

Ml  :i-  «'""l    Pvt'.    l"iig   tried    f.    have  a    turn 

•ut   than    I    am;    hut    r 
that  yoU  irani  my  heft  and  timbers.     In 
.your  master;  Uit  1'mju!/, 

erthan  me.     See  tothatgal,  \V. 

try.     Shi  own  c.j,; 

e're  l..,tl,  from  tlie  river;— and  if  tl, 

.  in  ludpin-  l,erf  eit] 
me  know  of  it.  and  you  -!,.•;!!  I,. 

the    -dd    out 

MW  „  nm.st   never  Uk«  till 

armi  with  him  aho 


THK    SCOUT. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

PROGRESS    AM)    si  >!'K.\SK. 

"WAS  ever  poor  devil  caught  so  completely  in  his  own  trap 
ln> to iv  !"  was  the  querulous  exclamation  of  Watson  Gray,  as. 
with  a  painful  effort,  he  rose  from  the  ground  where  his  adver- 
>ary  had  so  ungently  stretched  him  out.  "Egad,  I'm  sore  all 
over;  though  I  think  there's  no  hone  broken  !"  lie  nibbed  his 
arms  and  thighs  while  he  spoke,  with  an  anxious  earnestness 
which  showed  that  he  spoke  in  all  sincerity,  though  still  with 
some  donbt  whether  his  limbs  preserved  their  integrity. 

"Confound  the  scamp!  I  thought  I  had  him  sure.  His  arms 
fastened,  his  back  turned  !  —  who'd  have  thought  of  such  a  can 
ter  down  hill  with  a  strung  man  over  his  shoulders!  Well,  he 
certainly  deserves  the  name,  of  Supple  Jack  !  He's  earned  it 
fairly  by  this  bout,  if  he  never  did  before.  If  ever  fellow  was 
strong  and  supple  over  all  the  men  I  ever  knew,  he's  the  man. 
But  for  those  sleepy  Hessians,  I'd  have  had  him  ;  and  I  wonder 
what  can  keep  them  now.  The  dull,  drowsy,  beef-eyed  Dutch 
men —  what  the  d — 1  are  they  after?  What  stir's  that?" 

A  buzz  of  many  voices  in  earnest  controversy,  in  the  direction 
of  the  vault,  arrested  the  speaker  in  his  soliloquy,  and  stimulated 
his  apprehensions. 

"  15y  Jupiter!  they're  fighting  among  themselves!  What 
an  uproar!  They're  are  loggerheads,  surely  —  the  Hessian 
boobies !" 

The  anxiety  of  the  scout  made  him  half  forgetful  of  his 
bruises  as  he  turned  toward  the.  spot  from  whence  the  clamor 
rose.  There  seemed  sufficient  cause  to  justify  the  aj  prehensions 
which  he  had  expressed.  The  uproar  which  first  startled  him 
was  followed  by  oaths,  execrations,  and  finally  the  clash  of  arms. 
He  hurried  forward  to  the  scene  of  the  uproar,  and  arrived  not 
a  moment  too  soon  to  prevent  bloodshed.  It  will  be  necessarj 


that  order  t«> 
• 

:i  left  the  l.i\..u;ir  of 

tl.e    I'd.H-k    II!  through    the 

•nial  of  i •'  'iic  anothei  for  the 

•f  a  new  mm.  .    to  sup; 

would  ver\  -lioitlv  folh,\\-  upon  her  focist,-p>.     Thi>,  to  ;i  certain 

They  followed    her.  hut    n 

•hed   the   miseraUe  man  for 

ftn'fi   lite,  in  full  ti; 

lia\rt'o],  :i.i:   of  ih.ir  ajt}»;--uch  antl   purpotte,  ba^  tliis, 

uiitler  tl.  lo.      W<- 

\\hat  tlmse  circumrtancefl  were  ;    ami  tlu1  eruel 
iiiMilts  \\  ..  her    r,iiM'lii>i. 

little  deserving  ..ny  heart.      'I'iie  c-liief  of  the  outlaws 

i  in  of  his  kin>iiiaii. 

3    li.i-l    .-till    >oine    arrangements   to   make  — 
some  stii.  'juatl.  ami   pi;: 

;arted  lor  the  work  of  trear 

Ui   the  elevation  nt' 

•muiauii.  '.end. 

•  iral  transition,  ami  as  a  hecomin^  i-ewani 
for  h  .onioted  at  the  same   time  :• 

tion  wliii-h  the  ntlicr  had  so  lately  filled. 

ton    had    I  the  handitti,  who  simj.l-. 

mitted   to   proc  \\jich    th  y  could   not  hafile.  and  oji>  i  iv 

dared    in  •  I  iiey,  however,  held    the-!is(dves    in 

with  .    •    ;      ~ihh«,  the  darK  .  nr 

they  could  ]M ^\\>\ v  carry  them 
1'iit    tbu    determination  was   inetVective   t'«T 
ilme.  simjily  liecar  individual  in  each  mai,' 

\-had    hail    no   opportunity   allowed    them    for    U-liher.v 
and,  heii  led   of  lukewaiiuiie>-,  tlu-v  were    n«'' 

teie  .  her  uiiwatched   and    iin.'Uerved    l.y  tho  i: 

factit.n. 

ncied    that 

the  path  of  the  future  wa>  fairlv  ojteii  hefore  hi>  steps,  unemhar- 
ra88('(l  hy  .-11  .   f..rtuiic  I 


236  THE   SCOUT. 

oning  him  to  the  conquest.     There  was  but  one  task  before  him 
necessary  to  render  all   things  easy,  and  that  a  malignant.  senti- 
iiicnt  of  hate  goaded  him  on  to  perform.    'Flic  murder  of  I'M  ward 
Morton —  liis  personal   enemy  —  the  man  who   knew  his  .-• 
baseness,  and  who  scorned  him  in  consequence  —  was  yet  to  be 
executed  ;   and  this — when  he  thought  of  the  past,  its  bitte] 
and  contumely  —  of  the  future,  its  doubts  ami  dnnp-vs —  bee 
a  task  of  grateful  personal  performance.     To  this  task,  when  all 
the  ceremonials  were  over,  of  his  own  and  confederate' 
tion,  he  accordingly  hurried. 

liis  men  were  soon  put  in  readiness,  and  Davcy,  who  had 
traversed  the  ground  more  than  once  before  took  charge  of  the 
advance.  Their  plans  were  simple,  hut  sullicient,  had  the,  cir 
cumstances  continued  throughout  as  they  were  at  the  beginning. 
They  had  meditated  to  advance  upon,  and  to  surround  the  man 
sion,  in  which  they  supposed  their  captain  to  b  • -.  then,  rai.Miig 
the  cry  of  "  Sumter,"  create  an  alarm,  in  the  confusion  of  which 
Morton  was  to  be  put  to  death. 

It  need  not  he  said  that  the  unexpected  approach  of  a  1 
army,  under  a  forced  march,  and  without    any  of  ihe,  usual  bruit 
attending  on  the  progress  of  a  large  body  of  me:i,  utterly  battled 
all  their  calculations;  and  when,  following  the  path  toward  the 
tomb,  which    Morton   had   originally  taken.    Limtcnani    1" 
arrived  at  the  spot,  he  found  it  almost  in  complete  n  of 

soldiery,  consisting  of  the  very  Hessians  —  some  twenty  in  num 
her — on  the  assistance  of  whom  Waisuii  (jray  had  so  confidently 
calculated  when  he  made  the  rash  attempt  on  the  person  of 
Jack  Bannister. 

The  Hessian  troops  had  never  before  been  seen  by  the  lilark 
liiders,  and  Darcy  immediately  jumped   to   the  conclusion  that 
these  were  partisan  troops  of  Lee's  legimi,  which  lie  knew  had. 
a  little  time  hefore,  been  seen  in  the   neighborhood;  and  tin- 
conjecture  was  a  natural  one.  not  only  that  they  might  be  i! 
Atill,  but  that  Morton    might    already  have.  In-come  thei; 
The  incautious  movement  of  these    soldiers  BUj  '   I>arcv, 

who  was  not  without  his  ambition,  the  project  of  i-aptuiing  the 
whole  of  them.  They  \\ere  evidently  as  CArelftSfl  of  danger,  ah 
if  they  had  never  known  what  apprehension  was;  and  finding 


3     LND  S 

;  Mpiattiis-  around  near  t'l"  toiul.,  husy  ii    low 

;->i'>n,  the    next    most    natural   conjecture.  •:'   liis  in.v 

in^    hahits  \\a>.  tli;it    tln-v  lia<l    already  rifled    the   mai. 
were  now  sharing  its  plunder. 

cupidity  of  the   lialiitual   rohher  i    his  jud. 

:t  which  favored    the    i.  , 
art  :    ami.  taking   that    f.u-   granted  whirl: 
•ie,  and   waiting  for   no   further   knowledge    ..f  the 
truth,  I>arcy  k    to   Stockton.  \\]  .llouin^-   with 

the  main  l..,dy,  and   readily  iilled  his  mind  with  the  idea>  which 
predominated  in  his  own.      Hut  few  .{notions  \\e;v  tflked  1   . 

6  information  of  Darev  >eenied  to  coverall  the 
ind  they  hoth  were  instantly  ripe  for  action. 
"'II. i  -t  twenty  —  si^iiat  UJH.H  the  turf — some  of  their 

le  them,  ami  .some  upon  the  tomh  ;  and  the  plu:. 

from  the  interest  they  take  in  it,  must  he  rather 
than  has  Mr^.-d  their  eyes  lor  many  a  day.      We  ran 
lound  them  in  a  jiiVy,  without  striking  a  Mow." 

"1  ' — d.)    y,  ti    B60     nothing   of    him?"   demai. 

ton  anxi.  • 

Hut  if  tlie>e  fellows  found   him   at  the  hon.se,  ihe. 
me  trotthle.      They've  ilone  for  him  alre,; 
"  Enough  !— SOl  (m,  and  lead  the  v, ,  3  .      \|  ...    _,    it,  : 

•-ui-M-lf;   y.iu  alone  know  the  path." 
"B  1   have  heard  that  trumpet  onr 

It  must  he  at   the  man.s: 

i  he    more    need    f  r  hurry.      These    fello\\ 

who   have    rilled    the    hoUM    before    the    main 

them  ««f  their 

hurden    he!'.,iv    they    L'et    help    from   thr  After   that, 

u>li  up  for  the  hous<-,  and    .see  what  i 

"  K'  •  p   -ill    still,  fchei  111   uii.!.  -ur- 

•.•oiind    these  rasraU  and    ivlj.-ve  th.'in  i.f  their  plunder,  without 

•  I     Lei  j        b  md  we'll 

kbe  jounn  •  — <ii>inoniit ;  we 

1  1'   ^eiv  the   :..  !   the    Hlaek    K  :d    vield- 


238  TI1K    SCOUT. 

ing  the  management  <>i'  tho  affair  entirely  to  Darcy,  Stockton 
followed  with  his  hand  in  silence.  With  the  stealthy  pro- 
of  the  Indian,  each  individual  passed  to  his  appointed  station, 
until  the  tomb,  and  all  about  it,  was  completely  environed  with 
a  cordon  m&itaire,  from  which  nothing  could  escape.  A  signal 
whistle  warned  them  to  be  in  readiness,  and  a  second  com 
manded  the  movement. 

The  operation  was  fully  successful.  The  Hessians  were  sur 
rounded  before  sword  could  be  drawn  or  vager  lifted.  Nothing 
could  well  exceed  the  astonishment  of  the  mutual  parties,  the 
captors  equally  with  the  captive.  The  Hessians,  with  an  army 
of  two  thousand  men  or  more  at  hand,  were  confounded  to  find 
themselves,  on  a  sudden,  in  eu>tody  of  a  force  not  twice  their  own 
number;  while  the  amazement  of  the  lilack  Riders  was  sea* 
less,  when  they  heard  the  clamors  of  th  people  they  ha-!  ; 
captive,  in  a  language  which  they  could  not  comprehend,  and 
the  harsh  sounds  of  which  seemed  to  them  so  shocking  and  un 
natural.  Their  disappointment  was  something  increased,  a! 
discover,  that  instead  of  the  treasure  of  the  house  of  Middle 
ton — the  family  plate  and  ladie>' jewels —  the  supposed  plunder 
around  which  the  Hessians  had  heen  squatting  was  neither  more 
nor  less  than  the  body-,  seemingly  dead,  of  the  tender  boy  who 
usually  attended  upon  their  captain. 

It  was  at  this  moment  of  confusion  on  both  bands,  and  before 
anything  could  be  understood  or  anything  explained,  that  AVat- 
«m  Gray  made  his  appearance,  to  the  satisfaction  f  one  at  least 
of  the  parties. 

'•  How  now,  Darcy  ?  what's  the  matter  here?  What  are  you 
doing  with  tlit'M*.  men  I  Let  them  go." 

••Let  them  go,  indeed  !  when  we've  just  taken  them.  Let 
ihem  rather  go  to  the  gallows." 

"Gallows!    why,  who  do  you  take  these  fell  ws  for?" 

"Lee's  legion  —  or  a  part  of  it." 

"Indeed?  Had  your  courage  ever  carried  you  nigh  en«i  g). 
lo  Lee's  legion,  you'd  have  foun  1  out  your  mistake.  Why 
man  what  are  you  thinking  of?  T! ••  his  maji 

new  levies,   hired   or  bought    from    the    prince,   oi     1I< 
sel,  at   two  and  sixpence  a-head,  and   d — d  extravagant  pay 


239 

Let    tin-in    £0  —  they're 

A  -;l'hensh,  utterly  1..  jrond  translation  hy  any  present,  a: 

iio  from  t!  ,  in  full  confirmation  of  this 

assurance.       P>\   this   ti:  '.ton    made    liis   appearann -,  and 

the  face  of  '\Y  .  v  mi-ht  1  :i  to  indie 

he    .-aw   him.      Graj  knew  tlie    relation   in  which 

:  to  his  captain,  ai,  -ured  that  the 

latter  had    Dover  deputed   to   him   the  chief  command  in  his  ab- 

;  a.-tance    1  -plcioiis  ;    hut  1 1  ray  was  too 

old  a  scont  t"  ta  to   he   seen,  until  he  knew  in 

what  condition  tlie  od. 

he   said,  inditl'erently  —  "is   that   you?    hut 

is  lie  nut  in  command  ?" 

"No,  I    an:,"  -aid    Stockton  —  "I    am    fur    the    present.      We 
came  to  !  ihe  captain.'' 

"  Tla-  caprah;  ?-    \\-\iy    '-vlier.'  did  he  leave,  you  ?" 

the  h\vaiii|)  l! 

And  what  hr'n  look  after  him?      Did  he  order  it  ?'' 

taking    up    t!<e   talt;  uith   an  ndruitnr.-s  of 

which    In-    kiu-w    that  •    no   ma>ter  —  "no;    hut  we 

1    tnuiijirls.  ami    a>    he  stayed    rat'.ier  lonur.  WG  \\ere  appr»>- 

thottt    him.      Whe;i  we    came,    and    sa\v    these    fellows 

uniforms,  we  took  Ym  f--r  !.(•••'>  K-^ion,  as  we 

•it  thi-  neighborhood.*1 

••  And  you  really  have  never  seen  Lee's  uniforms,  ensign  /" 

•  .  yi.-u  know  ;   and — " 

•  You  liave  not   found  the  i.-iptain.  tlii-n  .'" 

•  N          •  *.  and  what  t>»  do " 

11  I'll  tell  !1   tind   him.     The  soonei 

to  iiim  tl: 
1I--  i  the    IMM:-  ard  Morton  a->  he 

.'.own   with  composure,  bill   interest,  and  •  1   to 

f   life  \\hicli  it  I'ontained.      The   wily 
Dai'cy  follou  i  duct,  in  turn,  > 

that  which  it  u  onld    he   j»r"j«rr   tor  him    to    pursue. 

to    tlie    examination,   and    still   less 

m    vain    H  -nd    lamentations.       Tlie    sel;>ImeBb    of   mau'i 


240  TIII-:  SCUUT. 

nature  soars  triumphant  above  all  other  considerations,  in  a  tim« 
of  war;  .-Mill  lift'.  K  comes  as  i-niall  a  subject  of  consideration  as 
any  one  of  its  own  circr. 

"Some  ugly  him-  i   reckon,"  sAid  Parry;  "we 

get    him  to  the  house  ;md   to  the  hands  of  the  sur.:. 

able." 

"  Does  lie  live?"  asked  Stockton  in  a  whisper,  over  Parcy'^ 
shoulder, 

.  he    lives!"   was   the   answer   made   by    Gray,   in    tor.es 
which    wo. re    somewhat    sharpened    by    aspect y  ;    "there's    life 
enough  to  go  upon,  and,  with  good  care,  he'll  be  able  shortly  to 
.  the  saddle.     If  we  can  stop  the  blood,  there's  nothi: 
'/aid  of,  I'm  thinki 

man    b.-ldly   took    the   lea',  as   a  man  having  his  wits 
it  him  will  be  always  apt  to  do,  i;i  seasons  of  Midden  peril 
and    givat   surprise.     Even    Stockton    tacitly  submitted   to    his 
guida. 

my  good  fellows,  and  let's  see  what,  we're 
it.     Hero,  one  of  you  take  that   d.>.-.i,  there  —  the   door  of 
the  vault  —  from  its  hinges,  a:;d  v.v'il  carry  him  to  the  house  on 
that." 

(Iray  muttered    throng!,  1    teeth  at  tl. 

and  his  hands  were  Unconsciously  pressed  upon  his  hips 
as  he  spoke:   "Jle'll  have  an  eAsier  ride  than  I    had  of  it.      M\ 

will  talk  of  .Jack  Bannister  fi-r  a  moi'.th." 

The   dour  of  the  van!:  lit  forward,  and    thi 

k    Kiders,  with    careful    hands,  rai.-ed    their  captain   ujmn  i'. 
Darry    ami    Slnektun    both    hu>ied    theinsflvt'Js    in    ihi- 
Hut,  though    performed  with  great    enuti.>n,  tl  i-ecalh-d 

wounded    man  t«»  CMIIM  :  .and    fw«.»   01  tlnee 

half-stilled    n.  ]>ed    from    his    lips.      Jle  mutl-'ved    B 

\vord .-.,  also,  which  >hn\\ed  that  he  still  fancied  himself   • 
in  all  the,  stru.  i  protracted  and  doubtfnl  ^trii'e. 

AVhen  (Jray  had  >,-en  him  fairly  placed  upon  the  frame,  which 

amplv  large,  he    thought  oi'  the  poor  prl  \\-hom  th- 
solicitations  of  .Supple  .lack    had   commended   to   1.  and. 

with    a   <'•  ud    tenderness  which    c-oiihl 

have    breii  .  \pected    from  one   habitually  so   rough,  he   himself 


thv  victim  In 

h   had   first 

•1     her  CO]) 

•1  with    all   the   fancie*  of  delirium. 

hii-li  peri. 
••mid    in   ai:y  way  comprehend,  hut    the  Mnn) 

: 

:;>ihh- —  tin-    creatu;.'  of  tlio 
•'    man  \\  1  ved,  anil   who 

I 
••'•ly  un;ti:  .  ilit  a-ony  wliieh  her  ravin-- 

:.      II,-  \\-alknl   l.o.si.l.',   her,  as   a  clo/.en  of  thr 

litter   toward    th<:   house;    and  few 
.d   those  only  such  •  v.  which 

:  ''  niouniful  in 
I  had   he- 

\vdon  at  the  lnui>e,  with  all  his  BOltC,  and 
•'  military.      H.-  likefl  U)  B66  ban 
.  and    he'll   look   to   you   i'or  it  while   tin- 

hanc.'.  this,"  imittnvd  Stockton,  as  he  d: 
with   l>arcy  to   jmt   in   exec-ution    tin 
"  "NVhoM   hav  ;    .\vdnn    ln-re,  and  we  know  not  a 

D  in  the  dark.     That 
"•<•!!    tii  .      JJut   it 

tpon    him  —  tv. 

• 

"  !'•  '•  '  >-unld  ha.  :,,n. 

"Th.  -in    all.      E 

iid  h<>w  |j  -han  nil  that  we  should 

bav« 

-     ;'    ''•'    Bl    !....;.      >n,  and    show  alac;.  ell    ai 


242  THK  scour. 

order.     Of  course  we'll  soy  nothing  about  the  captaincy.     You'.  . 
Htill  lieutenant  only,  and  if  Morton  duvs " 

"He  must  die!"   said  tlio  other. 

"Ay,  lie  nv.ist.  Rawdon  will  leave  him  a  surgeon,  and  w% 
will  find  a  guard;  and  if  he  survives  the  one,  there's  hut 
little  chance  of  his  getting  off  from  the  other.  Eh!  wlial 
think  you  ?" 

"  It  will  do,"  was  the  significant  answer  of  Stockton.     They 
understood   each   other  thoroughly,  before  thev  put  their  men  m 
order.     The   thoughts  of  Watson   Gray  were   not   less  hu^ 
lie  pursued  his  way  alone  with   the  wounded   persons;   nor  weie 
they  more  favorable  to  the  conspirators,  than  was  the  determina 
tion   of  those  friendly  to   their  captain.      He   knew,  better  than 
any  other  man,  the  true  history  of  the  latter,  and  the  sort  of  re 
lation  iu  which    he  stood   to  his  troop.      He  was  not   igno:. 
also,  of  the  scorn  which  Morton  felt  for  Stockton,  and  the  hate, 
more  deadly  because    secret,  with  which   the   other   requited    it. 
He  could  readily  conceive,  at  the  same  time,  that  Stockton's  in- 
tere.-t   would    lie    in    the   death    of  his  captain  ;   and,  putting  all 
these  tilings  together  in  his  mind,  he  determined  to  k-'ep  his  < 
open,  and  watchful  of  every  movement  of  the  parties. 

"  Kawdon  will  take  them  with  him  to  Ninety-Six,"  he  mut 
tered,  as  he  came  to  this  conclusion. 

"  I    will   persuade   him  to  do  so,  at  least,  and  the  chances  are 
fair  that  they  will  get  themselves   knocked   on   the  head  1« 
the  siege  is  over.      Hut,  whether  they  do  or  not,  we,   shall  gain 
time  ;   and  if  Morton's  hurts  are  curable,  we  shall  know  it  bei-iiv. 
they  get  back,  and  provide  accordingly.     Hut  one  thing  imr 
cared  lor.     Uawdon  must  not  know  Morton  in  the  house  of  Flora 
Middlcton.     That  would  spoil  all.     1  must  speak  with  him  h, 
the  body  arrives.      He  must  leave  the  matter  to  me." 

"Whatever  may  have  been  the  tie  that  attached  "Watson  Gray 
fc"  *l-c  chief  of  the  Hlack  Ixiders,  his  course  was  evidently  that  »-f 
a  truf-  and  shrewdly  thinking  friend.  lie  had  no  sooner  deter 
mined  what  was  proper  for  him  to  do,  than  he  hurried  ahead  of 
tlu>  •  .  n,  and  made  his  ai  in  the  spacious  hall  of 

the  mansion  several  minutes  b< -1  -,re  it  could  possibly  anivc.      11',.- 
\op!*J''p  was   in    the    parlor  with  the    ladies,  but  (li.i\    km-v 


24S 

t"  be  -   a  snffi- 

%      '  illptioii. 

!ii|i    that    W.v  old    speak  with 

<T  some    importai  id  to  an 

who   know   the    estimation    in   which    the 
was  held,  ami  at  once  disappeared  to  do  his  hidding. 


CII  A  PTEB    XXII. 

\KKi:i:\<   K    WITH    THi:     K.NK.MV. 

LHI:I>  R.\wiio\  appears  in  the  history  of  the  war  in  the  south- 

;  tin'  sternest  leaders  of  tin-  time  : 
I  H  wallis.  and  without 

of  thoM-  imnnNcs  of  a  lu-ttcr  temper  which  have  -ri-iuvd  f,,: 

'.  :!:i-nc;in    cnjitains,  tin-    doiihtfully   dc- 

'   "f  the  "tmi          '  Kawdon  left  liiin- 

';er  to  the  lurking  '.  the  nl.vious  llatte; 

an  ejiitl.'  iseijilinc  •  ,•  :    his 

-hi  and  inflexihlr  ;    and    he  n'ded  the 

whom    he    had    the    fortune    to    eonijurr,   as    something 

which,  like  the  spoil  he  won.  he    n-i-lit  <-;i>ily  disji-iv,.  of  accord- 

to    the   mood  which   ^ovenied   him    at  the  moment,  nnd   not 

r  tlie  dii(c:ion  of  any  fixed   principles  or  written  laws.     I!'- 

mn  /  i   and   specious,  are   Oil  hut    these   do   not 

-    TimiiH-nt  ;    and   w    mu-t    admit  that  the  kin^' 

•ive   in   all   the    Revolution 
'    to   his   dutir-  .lute  in  their 

funi.  '          ;"ii  had  also  the    merit    of  1.  ::tle- 

inan  ;    a   haid,  cold,   ii.;  ; — too   f.  d    hlooil, 

and  -  <    ri^ht  time  and  in  the  riirht 

place  .nd  unpliant  in  his  feeling — hut 

•still  a  gentleman  :   a  tjualill  his  crimes  of  per! 

.'.  Inch   he    posseted    in   common 

with  •!!•:   tiie    nsany  with  whom  ho  CO-OpPrated  du 

rimr  hi-  r:.ircr  in  the  Mujthern  count: 


241  -nil 

Well  acquainted  with  tlu«  character  of  the  Middleton  family 
it  liad  been,  .is  we  Lave  already  elsewhere  intimated,  the  policy 
of  this  commander,  as  well  as  of  liim  by  whom  he  had  been  pro- 

!,  to  treat   tin?   inmates  of  the   barony  with   all   indul-. 
Their  popularity  with  the  surrounding  country,  which  it  w,-. 
sirahh-   tn   ci'iu-iliate,  was  a  sufficient   reason   lor  an    indulgent-.' 
which,  in  tiie  reckless  career  of  the  invaders,  they  had  not  l>een 
disposed  to  extend  to  many;   and  the  time  was  fast  approaching 
when,  in  the  declining  power  of  their  arms,  their  desperation  led 
them  to  withdraw  even  this  degree  of  favor,  in  the  vain  hope  to 
coerce  the  patriotism  which  they  found  it  impossible  to  persuade 
or  seduce. 

Already  had  the  tone  of  British  superiority  been  lowered. 
They  could  no  longer  maintain  themselves  in  their  strongholds; 
and,  evacuating  Oamden  under  the  accumulating  p>  if  the 

American  forces,  Kawdon  was  even  now  on  his  way  to  Xinety- 
Six,  to  piotraet  the  hour  of  its  downfall.  This  was  the  last  st] 
hold  left  them  in  the.  interior,  and  to  delay,  not  to  battle  it 
sailants,  in  the  work  of  conque>t,  was  now  the  only  hope  of  the 
British  commander.  The  political  aspects  of  the  time  were  all 
unfavorable  to  British  ascendency;  and  the  temper  of  his  lord- 
ship  underwent  a  corresponding  change  with  his  changing  for 
tunes.  This  could  be  seen  by  the  Middletonfl  the  moment  when 
he  announced  himself  their  guest,  with  the  air  and  manner  of 
one  who  feels  all  the  changes  in  his  own  fortunes,  and  readily 
divines  the  effect  of  such  change  upon  his  reluctant  host.  He 
I,  though  he  did  not  say  :  — 

"I  know  that  you  receive  me  with  reluctance  —  that  my 
presence  is  hateful  to  you  —  nay,  that  you  perceive  and  exult  in 
my  approaching  overthrow  —  but  I  still  have  the  power  to  com 
pel  your  respect,  and  I  may  yet  awaken  your  fears.  You  shall 
receive  me,  and  seem  glad  to  do  so." 

But  the  suspicious  mood  of  Rawdon  became  quieted  when,  in 
tlie  gentle  and  easy  deportment  of  the  ladies,  he  failed  to  behold 
the  exulting  expression  "f  those  sentiments  which  he  fancied 
might  fill  their  bosoms.  They  were,  superior  to  tlfot  vulgar  sen 
timent  of  triumph  which  shows  itself  in  the  ill-disgniaed  grin,  or 
in  the  reserved  and  chilling  demeanor.  A  quiet  dignity  and  a 


•   I!    WIMi  MY. 

,ent  iii  the  conduct   <•{'  hoth,  ii-,  receiving 
'i  chief:   and  this,  in  t!:<  >r  of  the  two  ladies,  W19 

:!ed  with  some  little  tremulou-ne-s —  the   result   «>f  her  eon- 

what   ha.!  place  hetween  In 

and    '  Conway —  which    Uawdon    was    not   unwilling   to 

'Mtion  which  his  own  pi  mofli  naturally 

produce  uj«on  a  very  VMiithful  miml. 

This  notion  pleased  liis  Belf-COmplacency,  nml  made  tlic  work 

taBy  to  the  ladies;    hut  they  could  still  j.er. 
that   they  had   assumed,  as   enemies,  in   the  recent  sue* 
thrir  countrymen,  an      increased    importance   in  his  . -\ •••-.  which 
;-l    prohahly   increased    their   dangers;  — 
i  ml  this  difference  in  a  more, 
(lirect  and  decitled    mai 

:t  the  time  the  hane  of  the  country,  though  the  h!- 
of  tbe  ]  the  CTowninir  dish  of  the  evening  repast  ;   and 

:'odiiy,  though  employed   simply  in   coiniilinii-nt   to  tho 
ion   an   opportunity  to   .say  something  on   the 
suhject    of  their    loyalty,  as    he   sat  down  the  rich  howl  of  ^old- 
rimmed    Chin  Inch,  in    that   day   of  a   luxury    far    : 

than  ours,  though  of  far  '  ;d  ostentation,  the 

drunk. 

"1  patriotism  —  so    I    think 

:!iis  flinging  away  your  kin«r  and  country  —  takes  conn- 

f  gii.nl    taste,  and    does    not    allow   you    to    iling    awav  y.mr 

•.      It  would    have    heen    a    serious  trial  of  faith  to 

your  sex   to   have   given  up  the  celestial  liquor  for  more  than  a 

n<wered  smartly,  with  no  small  portion  of  that 
Hpint  which  the.:  distinguished  the  dames  of  Carolina. 

ID  n. -t  arcrpt  y«»ur  compliment   to  .,ur  tastes,  mv  l,.rd,  at 
t'"1    '  "four   patri'-tiM,).      Y«»u    perceive    that  while,  your 

l-.rdship  drinks  tea,  we  c..nline   ourselves  to  such   leverage   onlv 
;r  milch  cattle  yield  us.      Sometimes  we  rep-ile  iturselves  OD 
Indian   te;i,  which  •  ,  :      hut    this   onlv 

when    our  milk  fails  us,  which    is  no  unfrefjuciit  event,  since  the 
i>  t'ound  th.  ur  neighhoi  hood." 

the.  :dy  another  evil 


246  THE   SCOUT. 

of  your  patriotism.  But  surely  the  whole  burden  of  this  coin- 
plaint  should  not  fall  upon  the  Black  Riders.  There  have 
sueh  '  Rulers'  as  l'i>ll..\v  Fee  and  Suinter  in  this  neighborhood 
lately;  of  whom  report  speaks  not  more  favorably;  and  who 
prohahly  love  milch  cattle  (juite  as  well  as  anybody  else,  Nay, 
rny  lair  young  mistress,"  addressing  himself  to  Flora,  "there  is 
another  Rider,  black  enough  in  my  eyes,  but,  perhaps,  anything 
butbhrk  in  yours.  Ha!  you  can  guess  who  1  mean  by  this 
description;  and  I  will  not  name  him  for  your  sake  ;  —  but  let 
me  catch  him  !"  and  he,  raised  a  threatening  finger,  while  a 
half  smile  rested  upon  his  lips.  Flora  could  not  altogether 
suppress  the  blush  which  found  its  way  to  her  cheeks,  and  was 
as  little  able  to  control  the  irony  that  rose  at  the  same  time  to 
her  lips. 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  yon  are  too  severe  141011  our  poor  sex  ;   but — ' 

She  paused,  and  the  color  heightened  upon  her  cheeks. 

"  But  what  ?"   he  asked,  seeing  her  hesitate. 

"  But  what  if  he.  catches  you,  my  lord  ?" 

"Flora,  Flora  !"  said  the  grandmother,  with  a  look  and  voice 
of  warning.  A  momentary  gravity  overspiead  the  fac> 
Rawdon,  and  his  severe  features,  under  the  dark  shade,  of  his 
lowering  brows,  almost  startled  Flora  with  a  sentiment  of  ap 
prehension  for  her  own  imprudence;  but  the  good  sen  so  and 
breeding  of  his  lordship  came  to  her  relief  as  well  as  his  o\vn. 

"  Ah,  my  fair  foe,"  he  said  with  a  smile  of  good  nature. 
incorrigible  —  still   dangerous.       The,   tongues  of  your  Carolina 
ladies  inflict  deeper  wounds  than  the  swords  of  your  heroes." 

"  I  would  you  could  think  so,  my  lord." 

"  Why,  they  do,"  he  answered,  "they  do." 

"Nay,  my  lord,  I  will- not  contradict  you,  and  yet  I  am  try 
ing  to  persuade  myself  that  you  will  think  otherwise  before 
you  come  back  from  'Ninety-Six.'" 

"And  do  you  find  the  task  of  self-persuasion  diilicult  ?  J 
should  think  not  ;  and  least,  you  lio^c  I  will  come  back'/" 

"Yes,  my  lord,  I  hope,  so  —  in  safety;  but  with  such  opinions 
as  will  make  you  think  better  of  our  soldiers,  and,  in  this  reason, 
find  a  much  farther  journey  necessary.1' 

"What,  to  Charleston,  eh  ?  a  forced  march  back?" 


i:  WITH  mi:  KNKMY.  247 

:d,  my  l.inl  ;    '  at    that    di.-tai.ce    thflre 

will  diall 

tlu-ii  resume  our  t. 

"  Iiiit  without  the  duties?"   ho  said  hiu^liinu. 
44  Not  altogether,  my  lord.      I.  tor  one,  he!   all   the   disposition 
to    In*   the    dutiful    friend —  it'  you    plea>e   the   dutiful  child  —  «.f 
..•Mid;  —  hut    not    the    subject,    not    the    sla\  e  !       Her   victim, 
rather  !" 

\h.   my    fair    Flora,  we  wish    no   sacrifice:   none    of  i/ni/,   at 
all  drai:  no  damsel  to  the  altar,  unless  it  l.e  to  one 
of  her  o\\n   choosing.      Hut,  in   return   for  this   ^harp   speech   of 
yonr>.  fair   lady,  suffer  me   to   know  when  Colonel  Conwav 

la>t  ;    h..w  Imiir  since  he  has  taken  his  departure,  and  where 
I  may  expect  to  find  him  ?" 

"  He  ii. i>  1  ren  here,  my  lord,  I  frankly  tell  von,  hut  when  lie 

l.'ft  I  will  not  say.      V'.u  will  find  him " 

-•    hesitated    as   if  in   meditation,    while   her  larire    lirillia.it 
shone    without    a    cloud    upon    her    auditor,  and    her   form 
i-«l  to  dilate  in  more   than    feminine   majeMv  as   she   rose   to 
the  room  :  — 

Middleton,"  said  his  lordship,  "  yon  have  not  told 

:  t-i  find  Colonel  Conway." 
Her   an.-wer  was    iniMediate.  with    flashin-  :.d    (earless 

"  You  may  expect  to  find  him,  my  h.rd.  wherever  an  amhu^h 
can  he  laid;  whenever  a  hold  soldier  may  fancy  that  his  swnnl 
•an  maki-  an  rui-iny  feel  ;  ..r  a  L:ood  hlow  can  he  struck  lor  the 

"  Humph!"   exclaimed  Kawdon,  gravely,  though  with -ut  di.; 
FlOM    left    tin-    room.      "  FotU  ,u-liter.    .M  i - 

M'ul'.  .  .,-/• 

"  She    is    yoni ..  tie,  |,ut    ;! 

she  b]H>ak.s  thus.  I'm  sure  she  i>  (juite  a>  unliajipv  at  tl. 
:  11-.      \\'e  all  wi>h  it  well  over." 

•hiii^-   for   the   ri^ht    side.      'I',,  « 

r,  madam,  ii  umpl;  to\vi>h  our  kinj:  hi- 

Tint  in.w,  that  yo,,r  daiiirht.  .\\n.lrt  IDC 

Mrs.   Middleton.  of  »],,•    ,-,,yai  f.r>  melf  and  family " 


248  THE   SCOUT. 

*;  To  me,  my  lord;  —  to  my  family!"  was  the  reply  of  the 
\enerable  lady,  with  some  appearance  of  astonishment. 

'•  Yes,  madam,  in  the  immunity  you  have  so  long  enjoyed 
when  it  has  been  well  known  to  his  majesty's  commanders  in 
the  South,  that  your  own  and  the  sentiments  of  your  grand 
daughter —  your  opinions  and  wishes — are  all  unfavorable  to 
his  authority." 

il  Am  I  to  understand,  my  lord,  that  his  majesty's  officers  are 
instructed  to  wage  war  against  the  opinions  of  the  women  as 
well  as  the  swords  of  the  men  of  Carolina?" 

"No,  madam,  far  from  it;  but  those  opinions  sharpen  those 
swords " 

"  1  am  proud,  my  lord,  to  think,  and  hear  you  acknowledge 
that  such  is  the  case  !" 

"  I  had  not  thought,  madam,  to  have  hearkened  to  this  lan 
guage  from  your  lips.  The  protection  you  have  enjoyed  — 
your  immunities  from  the  confiscation  which  has  usually  followed 
disloyalty  —  should,  I  think,  have  prompted  a  degree  of  grati 
tude  for  his  majesty's  government,  which  would  have  saved  his 
representative  from  such  an  answer." 

"You  mistake,  my  lord,  in  some  important  particulars.  My 
immunities  are  not  due  to  his  majesty's  government.  If  thev 
are  to  be  spoken  of  as  due  anywhere,  they  must  be  ascribed  to 
that  sense,  of  manliness  in  the  soldiers  of  both  sides  in  this 
bloody  warfare,  all  of  whom,  it  seems  to  me,  would  have  blushed 
the  color  of  your  scarlet,  my  lord,  at  doing  hurt  to  two  lone 
women  in  the  wilderm 

Kawdon  did  blush  with  vexation  at  the  retort,  a.-  he  answered 
it  with  a  strong  effort  at  gentlemanly  composure. 

i  have  snrelv  mistaken  me.  Mrs.  MiddletOD.      Mv  purpose 

was  simply  to   intimate  that    his   majesty's  officers    have  been  at 

6  pains,  more  than  is  customary  in  a  country  which  has  been 

•  mpletely  covered  with    contending  armies,  to  preserve  from 

detriment  and  hurt  your  possessions  and  interests." 

"  I  confess,  my  lord,  the  amount  of  what  you  now  say 
to  me  to  differ  little  from  what  was  said   before.     You  have  for 
borne  to  sei/e  my  own  and  my  child's  property,  though  we  havo 
been  bold  enough  to  think  that  you  had  no  right  to  seize  it;  and 


M.MY. 

for    this    \  on    demand    mir    gratitude.       Mv    lord,   I    underMand, 
though  you   have    m-t    .spoken,  tin-    real    purpoM'  which  you 
unwilling   to    declare.      1    ran    very  well    comprehend    tin-    diili- 
culiies  under  which  his  maj<  •.    I  know 

that  their  MI;>;  .y  where   cut   oJV;   and  that  they 

t"  what   arc    eallea  'forced    loans'  to   enalile    them   to  prosecute 

the  \\ar." 

••  You  are  well  informed,  I  perceive,  madam.      Am  I  to  undei- 
stand  that  the  relnd  Siunter  has  heen  recently  your 

•'Within   ten   days,  my  lord  ;   and   my  opin;  _   Mieh  as 

they  are,  I  placed  in  his  hands,  for  the  use  of  my  country,  the 
entire  plate  of  the  Middleton  barony,  and  every  jewel  of  value 
whicli  belonged  to  myself  and  child.  The  ::s  which 

•  d  our  board  to-night,  and    the   howl   in  which  our  children 
have    been  baptised   from   immemorial    time,   are    all  that   \ 
kept    back   from    the  free  gift  which    my  feelings  made  to  my 
friends.      These,  my  lord " 

"Of  these,  madam,  the   cause  of  my  king  does  not  make   it 
thai    1    -hould  deprive  you,"  replied   Ilawdon,  with  a 

•  ltd  dignity  which  left  nothing  to  be  complained  of.     "  \ 
plate  would    have    lu-en    important    to    u>.  Mrs.   Middleton;    ami 

will  do  us  the  justice  to  believe  that,  knowing  as  we  did  its 

'  intrinsic  value,  we   did    not    make  this  requisition  until  the 

iioiir,  and  then   only  in   obedience  to  :  I  which  none 

but  •  .  madam,  though  1 

.'.hat  disappointed,  it  is  a  pain  spared  me,  which  I  would 

felt,  in   depriving  you  of  this  family  treasure.      N..r  can  I 

:tr   >..eial    attachments  with  that 

yielded  it  to  the  hands  of  those  \\-ho  will  make  use  of 

dust  me.      I    muM  i      an  without  it.      Let  me 

not  lo.-i-   your   etteem,  my  deal   madam,  1 

lion,  which  you  will   a!  •  •  ,    bidieve  was  not 

h  H  jiainiul  than  unavoidai  I 
The    • 

and  the  venerable  old  lad\  \\  i;h  a  kind  • 

.  •     • 

1   old  woman!"  >aid   his   lo:d>hip,  during  thb 
Iriei   interval  in  which  he 


^50  TIIK  SCOUT. 

monstrous  subsidy  to  Greene,  which  will  keep  him  on  his  legs  a 
while,  and  perhaps  trip  ours;  and  yet  1  can  not  be  angry  with 
her.  The  stock  is  a  good  one;  one  would  almost  wish  a  inothei 
or  a  daughter  of  such  a  nohle  heart  and  so  fearless  a  temper 
Ah,  (Jray,  I've  been  locking  for  you.  When  did  you  get  ovei 
from  the  Wateree  ?" 

"  I  left  there  yesterday  morning.  I  rode  all  night,  and  had 
to  make  more  than  two  turns  between  the  Hills  and  the  Conga- 
ree,  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  Marion's  men,  who  seem  to  me  to 
be  thicker  than  ever.  Your  lordship's  for  Ninety-Six?" 

3;   can  you  tell   me    anything  about  it  ?     These  rascally 
horse  of  Lee  and  Conway  have,  I  fear,  cut  off  all  my  messeiu 
to  Cruger,  as  they  certainly  have  cut  off  everything,  hi  the  shape 
of  intelligence,  from  me." 

11  Ninety-Six  is  dreadful  hard  pressed,  your  lordship  ;  that's  all 
I  know,  and  that  was  my  knowledge  three  days  ago." 

"  1  fear  I  shall  be  too  late,"  said  llawdon.  "But  you  wished 
to  see  me  on  other  business.  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Does  your  lordship  know  that  Colonel  Conway,  with  all  his 
troop,  has  been  here  within  the  last  hour?  Your  coming  scared 
him  from  his  roost." 

"  Indeed,  so  lately  !"  said  his  lordship.     "  Then  he  can    not 
D    now  be  far.     We   must   send   Major   Banks  after  him  ;"— 
and  his  lordship  was  about  to  summon  a  messenger. 

"If  1  might  venture  to  counsel  your  lordship,  you  will  d;« 
nothing  to-night.  It  will  be  only  to  send  your  detachment  inte 
an  ambush.  This  is  what  Conway  expects,  and  what  he  will 
prepare  for." 

"  Hut  we  can  not  suffer  him  to  lie  or  loiter  about  our  cne.-iinp- 
ment  ;  we  must  brush  him  off  at  the  risk  of  a  sting." 

.your  lordship;  but  a  double  guard  and  extra  videttes 
will  M-rve  all  necessary  purposes,  and,  with  the  dawn.  Major 
Hanks  can  he,  in  moti-m.  Now,  however,  Conway  is  in  p. 

..f   bis    own    ground,  all   of  which    he    knows,  while    Maj.-r 
Hanks  will  be  moving  to  danger  with  a  blind  across  his  < 

"You  are  right  ;  an  1  what  has  Conway  been  doing  here,  and 
where  is  his  brother-—  our  desperado  of  the  (Jongaree  ?" 


-•  1 

"  II..  then  .'" 

••  V.-ii  will   see   bim   shbrjly,  my  !  in  had  . 

.•Mul   they  have  blOOghl 

:  in  afraid.      There  has  heen 
them,  ami  the  captain  is  very  much  hurt.      It 
•;'ul  if  he  ever  gets  over  it." 

.  1  — ha>  —goefl  he  scot 

•  iihl  think  not,  however;   for,  know 
iiiin,  aini  liow  man  j 

.  :llin£  him,  ho  wouhl  run  all  ri>ks  of  his  own  life  to  make 
:'  the  other.      Hi>   condition   makes  me   think   that  the 
it  his  hurts  can  n«; 

"II  .  ymi  thi-. 

-•ally  fellow,  Kmni-ter.  utln  -ujt- 

:      (  '"lonel    CniLTer's    hlack 
:  The    culonel    o£ 

,  1   I  thou^lit  I  hail  him 
•   a  Tartar.      Ji 

,11  feel  in  all  my  1 
month  : 

•  ;i}ition  of  the  •  \\hich  his 

-hip's  niUM'les    relaxed    intiniteK  .-.1  to 

'••tails  which    led    him    to    the    snhje 
<  )n  ill--  beat)  i:  \\ 
: 

MI. 

•  "tild    ]•"  '.in  from  ; : 

\»  IP .  .small  f;i 

with  the  !  .  e  i 

with 


THE   SCOD1. 

ton,  herself,  will,  I  think,  see  to  that,  if  on  the  score  of  his  c  m- 
nections  only.  I  will  provide  the  guard  fur  Captain  .Morton,  and 
you  can  take  with  you  his  troop,  which  is  under  the  command 
of  Lieutenant  Stockton,  a  lirave  man  and  a  good  oilicer.  They 
are  pretty  strong,  and  the  greatest  daredevils  under  the  sir.. 
You'll  get  good  service  out  of  them,  and  wiJl  need  then; 
my  lord,  if,  as  I  suspect,  you  are  somewhat  short  of  cavalrv." 

"  You  think  rightly,  Gray  ;  and  your  plans  are  good.  1  will 
leave  a  surgeon's  assistant  with  Morton,  which  is  all  that  1  can 
do ;  but  my  own  surgeon  will  see  to  his  hurts  before  he  goes." 

"Your  lordship  will  be  so  good  as  to  remember  that  Captain 
Morton  is  no  more  than  Mr.  Con  way  here." 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  but  what  noise  is  that  below  ?" 

"  The  captain's  body,  I  reckon.  Will  your  lordship  look  at 
him  ?" 

"Is  he  sensible  —  conscious?" 

"  I  think  not  yet,  my  lord.  He  was  in  a  swoon  when  1  left 
him,  in  consequence  of  loss  of  blood." 

"  It  will  not  need  then.  I  will  send  Mr.  Coppinger  to  exam 
ine  his  hurts,  and  as  I  am  to  know  nothing  about  him,  you  must 
take  your  own  course  to  get  him  domiciled  among  the  ladies." 

"  That  is  easily  done,  your  lordship,"  said  Gray,  retiring  ;  "  I 
have  your  lordship's  permission  to  make  the  necessary  arrange 
ments." 

"  You  have  ;  send  me  Lieutenant  Farrington,  who  waits  with 
out,"  said  Rawdon,  as  the  other  left  the  room. 

It  scarcely  need  be  said  that  the  wily  Gray  succeeded  in  all 
his  present  purposes.  His  opinions  were  e.stri-n.rd  to  IK-  suili- 
cioaitly  sound,  by  his  lordship,  to  be  followed  implicitly.  Lieu 
tenant  Stockton  was  relieved  from  the  care  of  his  captain,  and 
ordered  to  place  himself,  with  his  whole,  tp.mj,.  under  the,  com 
inand  of  Major  Hanks,  of  the  British  cavalry  ;  and  the  bare  inti 
mation  of  Edward  Conway's  situation,  to  the  ladies  of  the  bar 
ony,  secured  f<>r  the  wounded  man  one,  oi'  the,  most  comfortable 
chambers  in  the  mansion.  \or  did  \Yat.son  Gray  neglect  the 
forlorn  and  outcast  damsel  whom  .John  Bannister  had  commended 
to  his  care.  An  adjoining  apartment  was  readily  procured  for 
her  in  the  same  spacious  dwelling,  and  the  surgeon's  aid  wa* 


\    KIDNIGH1  H80MHL 

:'<•  i-  tlu-  p,,,.;-  \ii-tiin  ;i  been  bestowed 

'layer.      \Ve    leave    Edward    (V>nway  in    the 
6  with  Flora  Middlcton —  hut  as  j  -t  u  terly  nnomsi-ions  «-f 
aii-i    near    neighborhn ml-- while    we    jniiMie    tho 
taken  by  his  l>n>tli<T. 


<    II  A  PTBB    XXIII. 

A     .MIl>M<;HT    ATTACK A    PRISON  KK. 

CI.AUI AM;   CONWAY    was   not   far   distant    from    the    Hritibh 

,  ami  was  soon  found    by  John   liannister,  after  the  1 
had  taken  his  leave  cf  Watson  (I ray.      The  partisan  had  already 
reached    hi*  troop,  and  got  it  in    partial  readiness  for  immediate 
FCC  wa>    little    more    than  that  of  a   captain's 
_      :  I  '^hty-tive  men   all   told  ;    hut.  «i\ 

lion,  his   rejrinu'iit    mi-'ht   he  made  complete.      Such  lin«-tn- 
atio;.  -Mstant  in  the  American  army;  and  were  inevitably 

•'juriit  to  the  miserable  sy>te>a    then    prevalent  in  regard  to 
militia    st-rvice.      .Maiion's    brigade    has    been    kn«»wn    I 
from  eighty  to  ciirht    hundred    men;    n«.r  was    this   dillerence,  in 
ely  any  ease,  the.   re.Milt  of  disa>ter.      The  volunteers  came 
and  \vent.  ;•(••••. nlin^   to  circum>tance>  ot'   nmiv  «»r  l( 
and  rometimo  as  it  suited  their  inclination^. 

iming  laxi 

•  ell    becau-e  of  the  picture  of  a  far  sii] 

a>  in  the  exhausted  condition  of  the  country  of  ( 'arolina  ;  \s  ! 
nearly  t\\«>  \  -  ,ny  kind  had  ! 

planted;    and    it    !  Bit    to    im ji..>-.il»h-    to    tind    food    and 

.c  body  of  men  and  hoi>e.  for  any  on. 

time  to-rther.  i  \  ice  was  of  a  sort,  also,  to  render  small 

bodi  ,-t'ul    than    jrrnnd    an 

to    be    p.  .Jit    i'roin 

such  detachm  the  \ery  la.st  importam «        ' 

•riling  to  the  i  I  uf  the  ber\ke,  VfM  in  half 


TIIK    Scut/I. 

a  dozen  hands;    SuniU'i  had  a  portion  of  it  at  this  very  uv  : 
en  the  Santeo  ;  Marion  on  the  IVdee  ;  while  Greene  exerc 
'.he  remaining  divi.si.-ns  as  Conway,  employed  the.  small  b<x 
hrs  immediate    command —  in   cutting  on"  supplies,  ii:i« 
messengers,  overawing    the   disaffected,  and    hanging   upon 
skirts  of  the  enemy  wliile  they  marched,  as  in  the  case  of  Ua\v 
don's  army,  at  this  very  time,  in  a  body  too  large  for  any  more 
bold  procedure. 

Bannister  found  his  leader  well  prepared  for  movement,  and 
anxiously  awaiting  him.  The  former  told  his  story  in  a  feu- 
words,  not  entirely  omitting  the  ludicrous  pai  .  liich  had 
taken  place  between  himself  and  Gray.  As  the  connection 
between  this  latter  person  and  Edward  Morton  was  very  well 
known  to  Clarence,  the  mind  of  the  latter  was  rendered  rather 
more  easy  on  the  subject  of  his  brother,  lie  knew  that  Morton 
was  of  sufficient  importance  to  the  British  army,  to  make  hi* 
restoration  the  particular  charge  of  Rawdon  ;  but  his  satisfac 
tion  on  this  subject  was  somewhat  qualified  when  he  remem 
bered  that  the  patient  would,  necessarily,  become,  an  occupant 
of  the  same  dwelling  with  Flora  Middleton.  His  anxi, 
such  as  are  natural  enough  to  the  lover,  who,  in  such  cases,  will 
always  be  apt  to  fancv  and  to  fear  a  thousand  evil  influences. 
lie  had  no  doubts  of  the  firmness  and  fidelity  of  Flora  ;  but, 
knowing  the  evil  connections  of  Morton,  he  dreaded  lest  the 
latter  should  find  some  means  to  abuse  the  hospitality  which  he 
well  knew  would  be  accorded  him.  These  thoughts 
troublesome  enough  to  render  activity  desirable  by  way  of 
relief;  and  after  a  brief  space  given  to  consultation  with  his 
favorite  scout,  and  little,  private  meditation,  he  determined  to 
beat  up  the  quarters  of  Rawdon  before  morning. 

It  was  midnight  when    Bannister  began  to   be.stir  himse'. 
his  comrades  for  this  purpo.se.      The  troop   had   been  sutl'ered    to 
snatch    a   few  hours  of  rep<.Se  on    the  :    a  little    I 

stretched   itself    nearlv  to   the   river    bank   on    one    hand,  and    to 
the   main   road  of  the  country  on   the  other;    in  such   a    position 

•  •curity,  and    under   Mich    .i^ood  watch,  that    no  appivhen 
could  be  excited  for  their  safety.      A  dense  thicket  covered  their 
front;  beyond,  and   lying  between  the  Miickct  and   the  barony, 


A     MII»N!i;ilT     \  1 


>wth    heing  kept   d 

.  still  hai-hanm-sly  coi. tinned  in  tin-  smith, 
-  annually  m  the  opemiig  "f  the  spring.      Tlii« 
.-.1    liy   the    s. 'nuts   of    Conway,  who    saw   tlio 
::eed  videtto   <.f  tin'  British,  without    snflerhr. 

,i,  and   gradually  receded  as  the  latter  continued  t«»  ap- 
•h  ;    still,  h..v,.  ;.:ng    a    keen    eye   upon    the   st.v 

\  rrally  a»unied. 
(  Mi  thr  CCaaion,  following  the  - 

nl  Ivawdon  had  doiihleil  his  >entriev,  and  increased  the 
!    nunihrr  of  v'uh-ttes.      Ili>    n«i>t  was  well    guarded,  tlnni.Lrh 
imtl  :  have   Keen   more   idle  than  the   fear,  that    a  : 

such  as  he  r..i<unanded  could  he  st-eurely  annoyed  hy  any  of  the 
roving    S(|iiadv    >,\'    'i   rse    which    the    Aniericans    had 
ahout  the  countrv.      P>ui,  at  this  time,  the  timidity  nf  the  British 
im-reaM-d   hourly  in  dr..  with    the   inciea^ed    audacity  ••! 

bant.  There  was  too  much  at  stake  t->  sr.iVer  any 
liritish  command'.-r  to  «,in:t  any  of  the  usual  safeguards  of  an 
army;  and  their  plans  and  performances,  from  this  period,  sh..w 
a  (h  scrujiulous  caution,  which  at  certain  jieri'i' 

:    them  in   their  situation -- may,  with 
iisidered    imherility.      To   ila>h    1'or  a  nioinei,: 
the   c;;mj)  of  the  liritish,  and  cany  otV  a  ^r«>up  of  caj.-' 

:ho  i.nlinary    ;  ilieiiovrl    c.tntidence    which    tin- 

had  acquired  ,.f  their  own  pmwess,  during  th- 

was   not  the  man  to  do  anything  rashly  at 
!        ;ution  w.'  •   the    British,  pru- 

«liMi."    W*B    a!  :i  virtue,  at    this    particular  juncture,  with 

th,.     ,  •  irward,  he    determined 

amp  hin:  with 

••     •     •    tw«.  irenl    f  i  ward    for 
:,way  pursued    the 
^t    in   front,  w'1 
j  ar.-.llel  ';    mail,    whic1 

-ut  two  hours,  and. 

luii  t    e!)'-i:uh    iu    the    camps 

At  •  ;  '  ' 


250  TI IK  SCOUT. 

report  enabled  then:  in  determine  upon  the  course  which  the, 
were  to  take. 

They  had  satisfied  themselves  of  the  true  position  of  t:.j 
British  army,  and  discovered,  that  while  the  sentries  u 
doubled  on  the  path  to  which  it  was  advancing,  tliey  had  not 
conceived  it  necessary  to  place  more  than  an  ordinary  watch  on 
that  which  they  had  passed  over  during  the  dav.  By  making 
a  small  circuit  of  a  mile  and  a  half  along  a  negro  footpath, 
which  carried  them  through  a  swamp  on  the  right,  Conwav 
lound  that  he  could  get  into  the  British  rear,  and  probably  u>e 
the  sabre  to  advantage  on  the  edge  of  the  encampment.  This 
was  to  be  done  with  the  main  body  of  the  troop,  while  a  feint 
was  to  be  made  with  the  residue  along  the  better  guarded 
British  line  in  front. 

It  was  near  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  prepara- 
tii.ns  of  the  partisans  were  completed  ;  and  John  Bannister  bad 
already  gathered  together  the  division  which  had  been  assigned 
him,  when  his  sleeve  was  plucked  by  a  soldier  whose  person  he 
could  not  distinguish  in  the  shadows  where  they  stood.  This 
person  called  him  aside  for  a  moment,  and  Bannister  then  dis 
covered  him  to  be  the  father  of  poor  Mary  Clarkson.  This 
man  was  a  sullen,  dark,  solitary,  but  unsubdued  spirit  —  who 
said  nothing,  felt  nothing,  asked  for  nothing,  complained  of 
nothing,  and  had  but  one  desire  in  the  world.  John  Bani: 
had  missed  sight  of  Clarkson  for  some  time  till  now;  and,  per 
haps  bad  rather  avoided  him  since  his  return  from  the  B< 
in  which  his  unlucky  arm  inflicted  the  unintentional  injury  upon 
his  unhappy  dan-liter.  Jle  now  shrunk  to  look  upon  the  miser 
able  old  man  ;  and  when  he  spoke,  to  him,  it  was  with  a  feeling 
of  compunctious  sorrow,  almost  as  great  ax  he  would  have  felt 
had  h,\  himself  inflicted  upon  the  unhappy  lather  the  vital  injury 
which  was  due  to  Edward  Morton  only. 

:  ha'n't  spoke  to  me  about  going  with  you,  Jack  Bannis 
ter,''  said  Clarkson,  with  some  irritation  in  his  tones;  '•  but  1  m 
going  with  you  jest  the  same." 

,  Jake,  you're  to  keep  with  Lieutenant  Peyton's  party, 
that's  to  make  a  i'eint  here  in  front.  He'll  call  you  up,  the 
moment  we  set  off." 


\    M I  DM' i  111'    ATTACK.        *     PR] 

"I  .It. n't  stay  with   him,  .lack:    I  n  "  ith   you 

I."  said  the  man,  doggedly. 
.:  \\liy.  .Jake.'   why  W  -n't  yon  stay  ?" 

;oing  to  strike  at  the  camp,  ain't  you?     You'll  ride 
the  lummy,  perhaps  .'" 

Q  Si,  —  there's  no  telliu'  yet." 

••  That's  why  1  want  to  go  with  yon  or  tin;  colonel." 
••  \\Y11  now    .lake,  I'll   mueh   rather  you'd   May  with  t! 

lit." 

••It'-  .If."   *aid    Clarkaon,    obstinately,  k    yon, 

Jack   I'annistcr,  I   ilon't  take  it  as  friendly,  that    you  didn't  tell 
tell  me  that  Ned  Conway  was  at  the  barony." 

do  you  know?    who  told   y»>u  .'"   demanded  the.  wood 
man  in  some  astonishment. 

yon   mind.     I   know  that  yon    saw  him  there  ;    and 
wha;  1  know  that  the  colonel  fou't  with  him,  and  's  hurt 

liini  mightily.     Hut   1   know  he's  not   got  wh  li    him; 

and  I'll  g<>  win-re  there's  any  chance  to  do  it." 

"Lo;  We'll  not  g.-t  nigher  to  the 

camp  than  the  outposts,  and  if  we  can  carry  <-iV  a  tew  ..utskairt- 

:1  we  look  for.     Xed  (Jonway  is  at  t!  .         kon, 

Biiug   in   his   hed,  with    more  than  a  thousand    men   close   round 

him.       .  no  chance  for  yon  to  reach  him." 

44  i  reckon  1  can  work    through    all  of   them,  John    Hanjii- 

^  what'*  my  IniMiiess.      I  must    «TM  with  y..u  m-  the  C"l«mel, 
no  n 

i>ter  knew  his  man  —  knew  Imw  idle  was  everything  like 
filiation  ;   and  though  he  also  well  knew  that  such  a  d. 
iniiiatii-n  as  (  Mark-  idy  likely  to  in.Mire  his  1 

knocked   on  the  head    sooner  than  any  of  th<  that 

\\as   only  a  chance  <  f  war  among   military  philosopher^  he    h-t 
him  have  his  own  v»ay,an«l  ijuietly  enn.lled  him  with  the  n 

It  would    have  heen  a  study  for  the  painter  to   have  >een   the 

'.  1  man  reload  hi-  rii!»-.  pick  the  (nuchlnde.  put    in  . 
pi-inu'ng.  and  turn  the  hullet  in  lie  wrapped,    it    in 

i'.dd  of  lnu-k.skiu  of  wh'udi  '. 

.  1   frlh. w  !"  n,  tO  hiniM-lf  as    : 

operations,      I'm   thinking   he 


*2o8  THK    SCOUT. 

time  lie  chooses   a  bullet;    I'm    sure   lie   does  whenever   he's 
grinding  his  knife." 

It  was  with  some  reluctance  that  Clarkson  was  persuaded  ro 
gird  a  sabre  at  his  side.  The  instrument  was  new  to  his  hand, 
hut  he  clutched  it  with  sufficient  familiarity  when  Bannister  to]  1 
him  it  was  heavy  and  sharp  enough  to  cleave  a  man  throng/1 
from  his  -boulder  to  his  thigh. 

All  heing  now  in  readiness',  Conway  gave  instructions  to  Lieu 
tenant  Peyton  to  make  no  movement  on  the  front,  until  suili- 
cient  time  had  been  allowed  him  for  getting  into  the  rear  of  the 
encampment;  and  then  to  give  the  alarm,  and  heat  up  the 
my's  quarters,  with  all  the  clamor  he  could  command.  By  two 
and  two,  he  led  his  troops  forward,  each  man  on  foot  and  guiding 
his  steed  with  shortened  rein,  until  they  had  passed  the  narrow 
open  neck  of  high  land  on  which  the  public  road  ran,  and  which 
separated  the  one  bay, which  he  had  lately  occupied, from  another 
to  which  he  now  bent  his  steps.  A  British  vidette  was  stationed 
not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  point  of  passage,  and 
great  indeed  were  the  anxieties  of  Clarence  and  of  all, "until  the 
horses  ceased  to  traverse  the  highland,,  and  entered  upon  the 
mucky  unresounding  footing  of  the  swamp. 

But  they  t- scaped  without  notice.  The  British  sentinel  was 
in  his  drowsiest  mood  —  drunk  perhaps  —  and  suffered  the  pas 
to  be  effected  without  alarm.  'Die  last  t\vo  file*  \\vru 
now  entirely  beyond  his  hearing,  and  Conway,  throwing  oil'  the 
difficult  restraint  which  his  impatience  felt  as  a  curb  and  bit, 
gave  orders  to  his  followers  to  mount  and  follow  him  at  as  >wilt 
a  pace  as  possible,  through  the  negro  trail  which  they  now  trav- 
•!.  Then,  a  silence  as  awful  as  that  of  the  grave  desrende.i 
upon  the  forest  which  he  had  left,  and  prevailed  over  the  u  g 
for  a  space  of  nearly  two  hours  more;  when  Lieutenant  Peyt"i, 
prepared  to  make  the  feint  which  was  to  divert  the  attention  of 
the  British  camp  from  the,  point  which  was  more  certninly 
threatened.  With  twenty  men,  judiciously  scattered  alon-  the 
front,  so  as  to  present  an  object  i.f  eijual  alarm  to  the  whole  line 
of  the  enemy's  si-nti  ie>,  he  slowly  advanced,  ami  having  thai 
vantage  which  arise*  from  a  perfect  knowledge  of  his  ground,  bin 
approach  remained  unseen  and  unsuspected  unt'l  it  was  almost 


A    MIDMi.il  , 

bullet  In-!  to  tell  iijiiui  its  separate  \irtim. 

prevailed   over   that  vast  hive 

of  human   hearts  which  was  then   heating  within  the  immediate 

i,e  harony.     Sleep  had  :  .  the  great  lody  «>f 

:. mates.     KxhauMion  had  done  its  work      T  .1  marches 

.  stimulated   as  they  had   hcen  hy  the   fear  of 

of  his  government,  tugi-thei 

uith   its   hrave   and   numerous  garrison,  had   severely  te-ted  the 

-pirit  of  his  troops,  and  deep  was   the   let) 

to  whom  the  privilege   of  sleep  had  heeii  accorded. 

-e    to  whom    >leep  had  heen    exp.  ••:iied,  in  a 

.    of  much   more   ahility  and  consciousness.      The   -enti- 

.  though  .-trictly  cautioned,  had  suli'ered  th-  per- 

ed  that  there  could  he  no  danger  in  a  region   in  which   they 

well  knew  th<  00   enemy  imhodied    in   sutVicient    1'orce   to 

mak'  ared    l.y  their  own  ;   and  if  they  had  not  formally 

«  d  them.selve.s  up  to  .-deep  u]»on  their  places  of  watch,  they 

U  elVort   to   9K  grateful  influei 

and  were   im    I  w.mld  have  heen  in  a  time 

of   danger.      Throughout    the    aveinie.    and    ranged    along    the 

of  the    park  which  lay  heside   it,  two   thousand  men,  in 

,y  upon  their  arms,  in  happy  slumher,  uncovered  to  the 

hile.  in    the    silvery    glances   of  the 

.light,  \s!.  i.tly  from   his   >teel   cap   and  pol- 

.  the  drowsy  sentinel   performed   his  weary  round 
uh;    or,    leaning   in    half   consciousness   only,    against    the 
ancient    oak,  yielded  himself,  in  in«»inen- 
to  dream  of  t1  i>!and  or  the  heat; 

.ml.-  "f  li  MI  home. 

In  tii,-  '.uan^ion  \vher.  wdon  had  taken  uj»  his   ai 

led,  hut  not  the   same    degree    of  apathy. 

<  ring   forms,  were  wakeful  i: 
Kawdon  him  :    hut,  in  the  apartment 

asoig  :  the  lilai •:.   :  "•  (} ray  was  an 

:   and  dressed  the 

woumU  ot    thf  I  lined    to 

Conwayha.l    losl   much   blood,  and  this,  Gray 


2GO  THE    SCOUT. 

very  well  knew,  was  rather  favorable  than  otherwise  to  his  condition. 
The  patient  lay,  not  sl.-eping.  perhaps,  Lut  \\ith  his  eye-  closed  and 
hi-  1  :.inirly  unobservant.  An  occasional  groan  reaped  him. 

a<  if  unconsciously.  Exhaustion,  rather  than  repose,  was  signified 
by  his  quiescence. 

In  another  part  of  the  house  lay  his  sutt'ering  victim.     The  mind 

of  Mary  Clarkson  wandered  in  all  the  misdirected  lieat  of  delirium. 

iiie  result  equally  of  mental  and  physical  pain.  By  her  side  -at 
Flora  Middleton.  The  sex  of  the  poor  victim  had  been  made  kno\\  n 
to  the  mistress  of  the  mansion,  through  the  medium  of  the  servants. 
by  the  timely  management  of  Watson  (iray:  hut  that  wily  associate 
of  the  outlaw  chief,  had  not  omitted  the  opportunity  which  it  af 
forded  him  of  turning  the  event  to  favorable  account  in  behalf  of  the 
man  he  served  so  faithfully. 

'It's  a  poor  girl,"  he  said  to  the  servant  to  whom  his  information 
was  intrusted,  "that  followed  Colonel  Conway  from  the  Congarec. 
and  when  he  and  his  brother  fought  by  the  vault,  which  they  did 
about  your  young  mistress,  the  poor  girl  jumped  between  them  to 
save  the  colonel,  and  got  her  hurts  that  way.  She  is  only  dre>--ed  in 
boy's  clothes  that  she  mightn't  be  known  among  the  troop." 

The  falsehood  found  its  way  to  the  ears  for  which  it  was  intended: 
and  the  proud  heart  of  Flora  Middleton  COM  in  indignation  AS  she 
heard  it. 

"  But  the  wretched  woman  is  yet  a  woman,  and  she's  suiTeriiiL'," 

the  humane  sentiment  with  which  she  silenced  the  communicat 
ive  iienro.      "  She  is  a  woman,  whatever  may  be  her  vices,  and  I    will 

If." 

And  \\ln-n  she  beheld  her,  she  could  no  longer  scorn  the  frail 
victim  of  a  misplace  d  affection  and  a  reckless  ]IM. 

•  iaU  d     and     wan,     the     miserable     girl     sang    and    gibbered 
with    all    the    unconcern   of    tin-   confirmed    maniac  ;  and    prated    at 
intervals  of  the  childish  follies  which    are  usually  the  prime  >ou: 
of  pleasure  to  the  child.      She  spoke    of    girli.xh    wanls    and    -irlish 
Hires,    and    ran    on    in   a    manner   of    inconsiderate    merriment, 
winch   was  of  all   things   the    most    mournful    and     heart  .sickening 
to  contemplate.      But  sh-  >eemcd    neither  to  see  nor  hear.     It 
onlv  when   the  surgeon  pressed  his  hand  upon   the   wounded  skull 


A    Min.Mi.iri     ATTACK         \     PRISON  BB.  261 

that   si.  :i\v:iy    into    utter    sjlem  •-.  which    was    accompanied 

b\  a    vacant    -laic    upon    ilic   operator.  io  hideous  in    tlic  deathlike 
:ity     which     it    exproM-d.    U    t«>     make    Fl.ua    shudder    and 
turn  away   with  a  ^-ickcnin^  horror  that   took  from   her  all   ti 

to    assjM.      It  was  only   when  the    Mir-reon    had   finished 
the    .. pcralioiis    \\hich     he   deemed     DeOCMtry,    th.-:1  ,ld    re 

sume  strength  t..  return  to  the  »  hamher,  and  the  patient  then 
lay  in  a  condition  of  stup  <r  that  secured  her  ertVctual  silence  for 
the  time. 

Not  a  word  now  e.-eaped  her  lips;  hut  a  choking  >.>!>  oeea- 
siunally  heaved  her  h-.s-mi  as  if  with  rwnvuNion;  ;.nd  amply  d«- 
the  "perilotU  stutV"  which  lay  thick  and  deadly  about  her 
heart.  Flora  Middle!.. u  .-at  beside  her.  with  one  female  t 
in  attendance,  when  all  the  rest  had  retired.  Her  personal 
pnaence  was  not  necessary,  but  she  could  not  lleep  on  account 
of  the  troublesome  and  liuiniliatin.ir  fancies  which  pos-essed  h<-r, 
on  the  subject  of  the  story  which  she  had  heard  in  iv-ard  to 
Clarence  Conway.  That  .-he  should  have  -uriendcred  her  best 
atTections  to  one  who  could  thus  abu-e  and  degrade  the  warmest, 
if  not  the  luftiest  «!evotii)ii  of  her  indeed,  a  subject  of 

humiliatini:  consideration  to  a  spirit  -,,  proud  as  hers;  and  it  was 
with  a  feelinir  of  relief  that  the  sudden  sharp  shut  ,,f  thr  Ms- 
sault,  and  the  wild  rin.irin.ir  «'f  the  nddni-ht  trumpet,  while 
it  denoted  the  approach  of  unexpected  conflict,  disturbed  tin- 
train  of  painful  thought  into  which  her  mind  had  unavoidably 
fallen. 

The    tumult   \\ithout   was  as  wild    and    terrible    as    it    had    be.  n 

sudden.       A    moment   of    the  deepest    midni-ht   stillness    had   been    suc 
ceeded  by  one  of  the  fiercest  uproar.      F\eited.  rather  than  alarm,  d. 
she  hurried    from  the  chamber,  and  encountered  at    the  head  of  the 
stairway    the    person    of    Lord    Kawdon.  \\lio  WM   join,  d    a    m 
after   by    Wtfaoa    Ormy,      Hi>   l.,rd-l.  :   a  smile,  whidi 

wasscarcely  one  of  i:ood   naiuie.  o\  er-pread   his  count,  • 

:ir  reb.-l  OOkNMl  ll  1  M        Middleton:  —  he   is  a 

bold  fellow,  but  will  pay  for  his  ra-hn. - 

"  I  told   your   lordship   that  you   \\ould  soon   find   him.  but   he  is 
I    than    I    thou-ht     him."  \\as    t]u-  reply 


THE  SCOUT. 

of  the  maiden,  who,  at  the  moment,  had  forgotten  everything  thai 
she  had  ever  heard  to  her  lover's  disadvantage,  and  now  glowed  -with 
all  the  natural  pride  of  one  who  joyed  in  the  courage  of  lu-r  count ry- 
inan. 

"  1  trust  that  he  will  wait  to  receive  my  acknowledgments  for  his 
early  attentions;"  was  the  answer  of  his  lordship,  uttered  through  hi* 
closed  teeth,  as  lie  hurried  down  the  steps. 

But  the  wisli  of  his  lordship  was  not  gratified.  The  alarm 
was  not  of  long  continuance,  though,  in  the  brief  space  of  time 
which  it  had  occupied,  it  had  been  sharp  in  equal  degree,  and 
the  surprise  of  the  camp  had  been  made  with  as  much  success 
as  iis  audacity  deserved.  The  sentries  had  been  hewn  down  at 
their  posts,  one  patrol  entirely  cut  off,  and  a  party  of  the  assailants, 
penetrating  to  the  head  of  the  avenue,  had  cut  in  pieces  a  half 
score  of  Hessians  before  they  had  well  started  from  their  slumbers. 
The  whole  affair  had  been  the  work  of  a  few  moments  only,  and 
when  the  British  were  in  condition  to  meet  the  invader,  there 
was  no  enemy  to  be  found.  They  had  dissipated  with  the  llexibil- 
ity  of  the  atmosphere,  in  the  obscure  haze  of  which  they  com 
pletely  vanished  from  the  eyes  of  the  pursuing  and  vengeance-breath 
ing  soldiery. 

In  the  lower  hall  of  the  mansion,  Lord  Rawdon  received  the 
report  of  the  officers  of  the  night,  to  whom,  it  may  be  supposed. 
his  countenance  was  in  no  respect  gracious.  Naturally  stern  of 
temper,  the  annoyance  was  calculated  to  increase  its  severity, 
and  add  to  the  habitual  harshness  of  his  manner.  He  stood 
•  the  chimney  place,  as  the  several  officers  in  commaiul 
made  their  appearance,  and  his  keen  eyes  examined  them  with 
frowning  expression  from  beneath  the  thick  bushy  brows,  which  were 
now  contracte.d  into  one  overhanging  roof,  and  almost  concealed  the 
orbs  in  turn  from  the  sight  of  those  whom  they  surveyed. 
Sharp,  indeed,  was  the  examination  which  followed,  and  bitter, 
though  brief,  were  the  various  comments  which  his  lordship  made  on 
the  several  event*  of  the  evening  as  they  were  reported  in  his  hear- 
in-. 

"  Majoribanks,"  >aid  he.  "you  were  in  charge  of  the  camp 
appointments  for  the  night.  You  will  make  your  full  returns  at 
morning  of  the  officers  on  duty;  and  let  them  report  to  you  the 


imp 

•Mirer  whom    1. 
!'-»r  your  lordship  now,"  plaei- 

;  In- killed 
which  arc  found.     It  will   IK  cd   an   inspection   of  the 

lit." 

prompt  and  ready.     I  \\  I 
of  the  nii;ht  had  known  '  ell."     And   with  th: 

"  Humph'  "  1:  ho  read  — "  Can   it    ' 

.'.n  ouiriuht;   trood   fdlou  .;>on  their 

man;  drunk,  or 

IK-  memorandum   i"  lu'<  hand<.  and.  utterly  nnahle 

• 

hew  ami  think    pi 

:inc  will  b  for 

hai  n  ill  In-  thoUL'lit 
,,dl  I  mal -•  OOdud    to  our 

of  tlie  hall  ;  l;  A  ith   do\\  : 

lid  not  OD4 

" 

••  \\  'ord-hip 

'  Indeed  '-  !>'.  <>h  :    this    Jv 

11    ni^ht,  same 


THK  srorr. 

terms, "and    his  lordship    laughed    outright    in    very    chagrin    and 
bitten, 

"  Ardour  prisoner  ;"— continued  Majoribanks. 

"  Ah:—  one  prisoner  !     Well,  you  hung  him,  did  you  '.'  " 

••  No,  your  lordship  :  we  did  not  hang  him  ;"  was  the  cold  but 
respectful  answer  of  Majoribanks.  "  \Ve  kne\v  not  that  Mich  a  pro 
eeeding  would  be  cither  proper  or  doirable." 

Hawdon's  eyes  gleamed  with  a  savage  keenness  of  glance  on  the 
speaker,  a<  he  implied  — 

"  Ila  !  you  did  not.  eh  '.'  Well,  let  it  be  done  instantly  !  I  will 
answer  for  its  propriety.  (Jray."  lie  continued,  turning  to  the  scout. 
who  stood  at  the  entrance,  "  see  to  it.  You  shall  be  our  provost  for 
the  occasion.  Find  out  the  nearest  tree— not  in  sight  of  the  dwel 
ling,  mark  me —  and  let  the  rope  be  a  good  one.  Let  him  be  hung 
with  due  propriety." 

Majoribanks  turned  away  to  conceal  his  emotion,  while  Cray 
replied  — 

••  Mav  it  please  your  lordship,  it  might  be  advisable  to  examine 
the  person  before  hanging  him.  lie  can  probably  give  you 
some  valuable  intelligence  —  something,  perhaps,  about  '  Ninety- 
Six.  •- 

"True,  true  !  —  it  does  please  me.  Bring  him  before  u>.  I  will 
examine  him  myself." 

An  oilieer  disappeared,  and  a  few  moments  only  had  elap-ed 
when,  conducted  by  a  tile  of  soldiers,  our  old  associate  John  Bannis 
ter  was  placed  before  the  British  commander. 


A    BBPBIJ   .  ALLOWS 


en  \i'Ti:i;   \\i\- 

-NIK  QALLOU  & 


-turdy  boatman  of  tin    <  u'a-  in  no  ways  daunted 

when   dragged    into  that     imposing    presence.     (hi    the    contrary, 

'•med  to  have  risen    in  elevation  and  acquired  new 

in  defiance  of  the  cords   which  secured  his  arms,   and 

I'itc  of  an  evident  halt  in  his  walk,   the  consequence  of  some 

injury    which   he  had  probably  sustained  in  the  melee  which  had 

just   taken   place.     An  easy    but  not   offensive  smile  was   upon   his 

countenance  as   he   entered,  and    though   erect    and   manly,    there 

was  nothing    in-olrnt    or    ostentatious    in    his    carriage.      lie  bowed 

hU   ln-ad    regretfully,    tir-t   to    his    lordship    and    then    to    the  sur 

rounding   ollieer-.    and    having   advanced   almost    to   the  eniter  of 

loom.    pau<"d  in  waitinir    and    without   ;i    word.      Kawdon  sur- 

-  .n  with  litllt-  int-Tcsi,   .-md  was  evi<lently   annoyed  l>y 

the    •  deliberation,  and  ron-riim-  dignity    of  the   woodman's 

:iLr. 
"Who  an  you.  fellow  '.  "  he  den  anded. 

yiMir  lonUhip.     I'm  a  sort  of 

When  I'm   in  the   woods,  for  Col.    (\m\\:i\'^  ri-iment; 
but  with  my  hand-  hitrhed   behind   me.  j,-t  now,  1  don't  feel  as  if  I 

:i!l\  liody.' 

:    in-i-nilicanee  i-  more  likely  to    !  1  than 

diminished,  follow  .;>:'"(1    l«'U   us  what    you  know.      Your 

Where  i-  hi-  ii" 

"  \\ell.    your  lord>hij>.  if  I've  li-htly   larn»-d    my    <  ate<  \i\^i\,  he'- 
lookim:   down     upon   u  .  1   li>tenin-i:  to    .-V.T\     \\.»rd    that's 

md    wind.  i  ;  ,  \\  don    hastily, 

!i'-     put     hi-    hand    up  >i\    hi-    BWOfd,       while     hi- 
turned  to   tin-    windows   of   tin-    apartment:  —  "  \\lio  knows  buf 


TIIK 
. 

may  have  another  vi-it  fr->m  Ihis  auua?  ions  rebel.      lie  has  had  every 
encouragement  to  come  again." 

A  silent  chuckle  of  the  ited  his  satisfaction  ;ii  tl: 

take  into  which  lie  had  led  his  ca})tor,  in  consequence  of  hi-,  pt  euliar 
inodfs  of  sp:  ech  and  thinking. 

'•'What  dors   the  fellow  mean  by  this  insolence  :     Speak,  sirrah, 

\ou  to  the  halbir.K:  " 

••And   if  your  lordship   did,   I  reckon   I    should    speak   pretty 
much  as  I   do   now.     Your   lordship   asked  me   when-   my   ma 
is;    ;>nd   as    1    know   no   ma-ter   but     God    Almighty,    1    wk«.n    1 
answered    no  more  than    rightly,  when  I   said   he  was   looking. 
this   very  moment,  down   upon   our   proceeding.     By   the  cateehis' 
I  was  always  taught  that,  he  was  pretty  much   here,  thar,  and  every 
whar;  —  a  soil  of   scout   for  the   whole  univarse,  that  don't  want    for 
anj'  sleep,  and  never  made  a    fal<e  count  of   the  number   sent  out 

gin  him  " 

"  Is  the  fellow  mad  '.' "  demanded  Kawdon,  with  impatience,  inter 
rupt  in  u-  the  woodnnn,  who  seemed  very  well  disposed  to  expati-'te 
loniier  ui)on  this  eMpious  subject.  "  Who  knows  anythini:  of  this 
fellow  f" 

"I  do,  your  lordship,"  whispered  Watson  Gray,  but  in  loues 
that  reached  the  ears  of  Bannister.  "He's  the  same  person  thai  I 
told  you  of  to-night  —  he's  the  famous  scout  that  Col.  Cru.irer  ottered 
twenty  guineas  for,  i'or  stealing  Ins  horse." 

Th<-  last  words  awakened  all  BannMer's  indignation,  which  he 
expressed  without  heeding  the  presence  in  which  he  stood. 

"Look  you,  \Va1>on  Gray,"  said  he.  "  that's  not  so  genteel,  all 
things  considerin';  and  I'll  look  to  you  tn  answer  it  some  day.  The 
horse  wa>  a  fair  pri/.e,  taken  from  the  enemy's  quarter*  at  the  resk  of 
my  neck  - 

"That  risk  is  not  over,  scoundrel;  and  that  you  may  be  made 
justly  sensible  of  it,  let  the  provost  take  him  hence  to  a  tree. 
Let  it  be  done  at  once.  \Ve  shall  save  Crngi-r  his  twenty 
gum* 

If.---.-   \V;:t<o;i  Gray  again  whNpered     in     tl  f    hi<    lord- 

ship. 

"  Ah,  true,"  said  the  lalt'-r:  "  then  addr-  mister,  he  asked 

in  accents  of  unusual  mildness:  — 


A   REPB1 

•!i.  your  ! 

live  or  to  .!!'•;  ili,,-. 

I  illicit  have  M  di:l 
<'1»'1-  •••'.  for   anything    I    kn<,\\ 

:'.  sirrah.      Hear  me:  you  can  SaVfl  your 

lif('  ]'.v  I1'  'lie  truth  to  all 

the  '  a-k  you,  and  r.o  prevarication." 

"  I'll    try.  your  ;   quietly.  a<  lie  tur: 

•obacco  in  his  mouth  and  voided  it  behind  him  «>n  liie 
with   a  .-.liich  did  not  lessen  hi*  lonUhip's  indi 

"  IIo\v    many    men    were    with    your   color,,-!  in    \\i\<  a-suilt    to- 
olght?" 

II,   alx.ut   thirty   men.  I    reckon  —  which    wa'n't    more    than 
half  hi*  force:  t'other  half  played  with  the  nntfof 

"Thirty  11..  heard  the  like'     Thirty  men  to  beat   up 

the  quarter-  of  a  HrilMi  p-m-ral.  and  ride  over  a  who].  two 

ilmu-aii.1  ;, 

.  in  a  \vh! 

metlinei  h.-,  :!U.nt  an<i  i 

H  n  him  \\ith  le<s  than  a  liundred." 

"  Hai,  found  in  i  >m  r 

aim.-d  R| 


'f  V1"'  l"rd-hip  I..  tfa  i;,ii-jnL: 

in    preference   to   hitu   n,:,r  l  •     i,-.  ]j|-,.|v    V(,u-|i 

thar.      U'sno 

in-  1"  hind    y..u  tli                               D   ,,„    ,|,,. 

• 
lit.    and    llk«    a     in  :      tl,(.n    thi-n-'s    l-ut 

:th    at    all 
•  Ji,    to  sp      .     .      <h    that   there's  no 


2G8  THE  SCOUT. 

denying,  I  ain't  very  willing  to  tell  your  lordship  anything 
about  the  consarns  of  the  troop.  I'm  jub'ous  ef  that  ain't  treason 
able." 

"You  are  very  scrupulous  all  at  once,  my  tine  fellow — but, 
whether  you  are  believed  or  not,  we  shall  still  hear  what  you  have  to 
siy.  Docs  the  iramson  at  '  Ninety-Six  '  hold  out ''.  " 

"  I  reckon  not  now.  It  did  yesterday  morning,  but  'twas 
mighty  hard  pushed  then;  and  as  we  caught  all  your  messengers. 
and  got  all  your  letters  to  Colonel  Cruger,  I'm  thinking  he  -  Driven 
in,  seeing  there  was  no  sort  of  chance  of  your  lordship  com 
ing." 

"  D — nation!    I  sent  two  messengers  since  Sunday." 

"  I  reckon  your  lordship's  count  ain't  altogether  right;  for  I 
myself  caught  three.  I  choked  one  chap  till  he  emptied  his 
throat  of  a  mighty  small  scrap  of  intelligence  that  he  Lad  curled 
up  like  a  piece  of  honest  pigtail  in  his  jaws;  and  we  physicked 
another  before  he  surrendered  the  screw-bullet  that  he  swal 
lowed.  The  third  one  gin  up  his  paper  like  a  good  fellow, 
j'ined  our  troop,  and  helped  us  powerful  well  in  the  little  brush 
we  made  in  the  avenue  to-night.  He's  a  big  fellow,  a  Dutch 
man  by  birth,  that  come  out  of  the  forks  of  Edisto.  His  name's 
a  mighty  hard  one  to  spell,  and  I  can't  say  that  I  altogether 
remember  it;  but  he  showed  us  five  guineas  that  your  lordship 
gin  him  to  go  to  '  Ninety-Six,'  and  I  reckon  he'd  ha'  gone  if  we 
hadn't  caught  him.  He  fou't  powerful  well  to-night,  for  I  watched 
him." 

John  Bannister  was  evidently  not  the  person  from  whom 
much  intelligence  could  be  extracted,  though  he  was  quite  lib 
eral  iu  yielding  that  which  it  gave  his  lordship  little  pleasure  to 
hear.  Every  word  which  he  uttered  seemed  to  be  peculiarly 
chosen  to  mortify  his  captors.  Not  that  the  worthy  scout  Lad 
any  such  intention,  for  he  well  knew  the  danger  to  himself  of 
any  such  proceeding;  and,  as  we  have  said  before,  his  manner, 
though  loftier  than  usual,  was  unobtrusive,  and  certainly  never 
intended  anything  like  insolence.  His  free  -p«-eeh  came  from 
his  frank  nature,  which  poured  forth  the  honest  feelings  of  his 
mind  without  much  restraint,  and  utterly  regardless  of  the  situ 
ation  in  which  lie»sto<.,l.  He  was  just  sufficiently  cautious  to 


A   R!  'M    I  II  i     '-A  1.1  n\\  8. 

bailie  his  examiner*  on  «-v«  r\  lubject,  the  truth  of  which  mii:ht  aflVct 
unfavorably  the  troop  and  the  service  in  which  it 
Kawdon  soon  discerned  the  character  of  the  person  with  whom  lie 
had  to  deal  ;  and,  provoked  beyond  patience  by  tin-  annoying  detail 
tin- scout  had  Driven  of  the  capture  of  hi-  three  me--en;rer-.  he  thus 
summarily  cut  short  the  confen -nee: 

••lit.  .lolm  Banni-ter.  and  your  !<><-.  I   have  no 

iloubt,  will  be  severely  felt  by  your  leader.  I'n-v.'-t,  take  him  to 
the  cml  of  the  lane,  givo  him  three  minutes  for  pray  r.  and  then 
hanir  him  to  the  tallest  tree  in  front  of  the  avenue.  Let  him  ham,' 
till  daylight,  that  the  Irish  regiments  may  see  and  take  warning  from 
the  spectacle.  It  may  cure  a  few  of  them  of  the  disease  of  desertion, 
which  Is  so  apt  to  afflict  so  many.  Go,  my  good  Bannister,  my  provost 
will  see  to  your  remaining  wants.  I  think  your  colonel  will  feel  your 
loss  very  much.'' 

"I'm  jest  now  of  the  same  opinion,  your  lordship."  replied  the 
scout,  composedly  ;  but  I'm  not  thinking  he's  so  nigh  losing  me  alto 
gether.     I  don't  think  my  neck   in   so  much   danger  yet.  bean 
reckon  your  lord-hip  won't  be  so  venti;:  to   hang  up  a  pris 

oner-of-war.  takiMi  in  an  honest  scrimmage." 

"Ah!  that  is //"'//•  opinion.    We  di  tier!    Take  him  hence.  !'• 
and  do  as  I  bid  you.      I.et    it    be   done  ;r  A  -hort  shrift  - 

many  unpleasant  reflections." 

Such  was  the  OOOl,  .-tern  decision  of  his  lord-hip,  to  whose 
haughty  mind  the  *<mg  froid  of  Bannister  wa-  eminently  in 
sulting. 

"  I  would  jest  like  to  let  your  lordship  know   before    I 

"  was  the  beginning  of  another  :  Bannister's,  which  the 

angry  gesture  of  Hawdon  did  not  sutler  him   to  lini-h.     The  pi 
and  his  attendants  sei/ed   on   the  prisoner,  in  obedience  to  the  lifted 
tinker  of  his  lord-hip,  ami  \\cre  about   to  hurry  him,  still  speakim:, 
from  the  apartment,  when  they  were  stopped  at  the  door  by  the  sud 
den  entrance  of  Kl'-ra  Middleton. 

\.-laimed.  addressing  the  oflicer  —  "  stj.y.  till  ,  nave 
spoken  with  his  lordship." 

Ion  -tarted  buck  at  beholdimr  her.  and  could  not  refrain  from 
-urpri.se  at  her  presence. 


THI:  SCOTT. 

"  At  this  time  of  the  ni-ht.  Mi.-.*  Middleton.  and  he: 

•   improper  conduct,  your    lordship   would   intimate,   for  ;i 
;  but  the  (  ircunistances   must 

.  in  behalf  of  this  poor   num. 

bom  I  uiiiii  IU  arc  ;;!>out  to  <  violation  of  the 

iiy,  and,  a<  I  believe,  the  laws  of  \\ 

vidently  annoyed. 

••  Y..I:  have  eho-en  :i  very  unnecevsary  labor,  Miss  Middleton,  and 
pardon  me  if  I  think  a  very  unbecoming  one.  I  may  be  permitted, 
sun  ly.  to  know  what  the  laws  of  war  require,  .  pet  that 

?Iiss  Middleton  cannot  believe  me  sulHeiently  \vell  informed  i:   I 
to  those  of  humanii 

rdon   me,    my   lord,   if.    in  my  excited    emotions,   my  words 
should  happen  to  oi-'erd.      I  do  not   mean  oUVnce.      I    would   not  in 
trude  upon  a  scene  lik"  this,  and  cannot  think   that   my  interposition 
life,  and  to  prevent  murder,  can  properly  be  called  an  unbe 
coming  interfer- 

"Murder!"  muttered  his  lordship  throuirh  hi*  closed  teeth,  while 
—  as  if  to  prevent  his  frowns  from  addressing  themselves  to  the  fair 
intruder — he  was  compelled  to  avert  his  | 

-.  my  lord,  murder  ;  for   I   know   this   man   to   be  a-  \vorthy 

and  honest   a  citi  rer  lived  on  the  <  He  has  always 

been    my    friend    and    the    friend    of    the    family,     lie    has    never 

i  his  loyalty  to  the  kiiii:  —  never  taken  i>rotection  :  but,  from 

'.ha- been   in   arms,  under  either  r   Sumter.  in  oj>- 

;i    to    his    maje>ty.      The    fate  of   war   throws  him    into  your 

hands " 

"And  lie  mu>t  abide  it,  lady.  lie  lias  been  such  a  c, moisten? 
rebel,  according  to  youi-  own  showing,  that  he  well  deserve  his  fate. 
Provo>t .  do  }  our  duty!  " 

"  My  lord,  my  lord,  can  it  be  that  you  will  not  irrant  my  prayer — 
that  you  will  not  spare  him?" 

"  It  would  ^ive  in''  pleasure  to  .irrant  any  application  to  one  so  fair 

and  fri>-nilly,  but " 

'•<)h,    deal    not    in    this    vain    laniruaire    at    such    a    time      my 

lord.      I>o    not    this  ,r    military    j-ride 

you    into   an    inhumanity  \\  hioh  you  will   remember  in  after 

i:h   dread    and    sorrow.      Already    they    charge    you    with 


A    Bl  -.»;  1 

nt. mly    s1 

:    111:111  :ind    tin- 
l»i-y    alike.      P.m.    ! 

fn.in   me  in  anger  —  ]  1    would  not  wish   to 

;.-h.  too  much  :  M  inunuurc.l  Majoril>ank- 

•'•ni   and    |  iptain.       He    \\.-ll    ; 

. 

allu-i.  •  re  liad  ipoi]  :'  all. 

is  in  vain. 

• 
jit  midnight." 

'    intle.xili!'  him  :     on    my   kn.  > 

""I1-  ':yl«ir«l.     I  have  known  him  long,  and  always  worthily  ; 

h«-   ix   my   friend,  and    a  noblc-hcartcd  -  h    a 

f*'11"  ruffian,  the  murderer,  th«  spy,  but 

•iiy  ir.an  like  t!  ' 

i.  witliout 
mortal." 

ml   it,  then  :  "  -.\\i-  c'.\cl;i' 
•he  Hoor. 
"  Imp  The  man  inu-t  di 

'1  fr"in  h:  led  him  \\r 

•  l..lin  IJann: 

:  r  remained  uuin.-vr.l.      I: 

lioiii  the  thnatcnin 
fr.'ii  i    only    Btl  .,,,,1 

1I(-  ""^  lanoeof  bittoroen  and  urief.  \\hih-  a  smile 

min-  ly  ujM.n  1.  ;illir 

!llrn>  .  :    :md     I  m 

in   this 

.ny   hurl. 


THE   SCOUT. 

iiii'l  if  his  lordship  had  only  listened  to  me  a  leetle  while  longei 
at  first,  he'd  ha'  boon  able  to  have  said  the  handsome  thing,  and 
consented  to  all  yon  axed  him.  Look  here,  my  lord,  'twon't  do 
to  hang  me,  unless  you'd  like  to  lose  a  better  man  in  the  bar 
gain." 

A  look  of  inquiry  was  all  that  his  lordship  deigned  tho 
speaker,  who,  turning  to  the  provost,  begged  him  to  take  his 
grasp  from  his  shoulder. 

"  I  can't  run,  you  sec,  cf  I  wanted  to,  and  somehow  I  never 
could  talk  to  my  own  liking,  when  I  had  the  feel  of  an  ineir.v', 
hand  upon  me." 

"  Speak  up,  fellow,"  said  Majoribanks,  who  saw  the  increas 
ing  vexation  of  Rawdon,  "  and  tell  his  lordship  what  you  mean." 

"Well,  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter's  this,  your  lordbhip. 
If  you  look  at  your  roll,  I  reckon  you'll  find  n  handsome  young 
cappin,  or  mou't-bc  a  major,  among  your  missing.  1  made  him 
a  prisoner  myself,  at  the  head  of  the  avenue,  on  the  \ery  iirst 
charge  to-night,  and  I  know  they've  got  him  safe  among  my 
people  ;  and  his  neck  must  be  a  sort  of  make-weight  agin  mine 
J  ain't  of  much  'count  anyhow,  but  the  'Congaree  Blues'  has  a 
sort  of  liking  for  me,  and  they  can  find  any  quantity  of  rope  and 
tree  ivhcii  there's  a  need  for  it.  If  you  hang  me,  they'll  hang 
him,  and  your  lordship  can  tell  best  whether  he's  v.orih  l"(ik:iig 
after  or  not.  It's  a  thing  for  calculation  only." 

"Is  this  the  case?  Is  there  any  oflicer  missing?"  demanded 
Rawdon,  with  a  tone  of  suppressed  but  bitter  feeling. 

"Two,  your  lordship,"  replied  the  lieutenant  of  the  night  — 
'  Major  Penfield  and  Captain  Withers." 

"  They  should  hang  !  They  deserve  it !"  exclaimed  Rawdon  ; 
but  an  audible  murmur  from  the  bottom  of  the  ball,  warned  him 
of  the  danger  of  trying  experiments  upon  the  temper  of  troops 
who  had  just  effected  a  painful  forced  march,  and  bad  hefnrv 
them  a  continuation  of  the  same,  and  even  severer  duties. 

"Take  the  prisoner  away,  and  let  him  be  well  guarded,"  s;.i-.! 
his  lordship. 

Flora  Mlddleton,  relieved  by  tb..->  order,  g-ive  but  a  sinrie 
glance  of  satisfaction  to  the  woodman,  as  she  glided  out  <>f  the 
apart  men* 


\     i;i.ri.i  i.v  1.    1  I;»»M     1 11 1.    ••  \  i.i-(  • 

With  the  dawn   of    day   the   British  army  was  under  arm-,  and 
preparing    t"    depart.     (Mir    heroine.     \\ho    had    enjoyed     IM. 
during  the   night,  and  had  felt  no  desire  for  it,  under  the   nui 
fill    feelings    which    filled    lit  r   heart,    • 

her   station   in    the    balcony,    where    she    could    witness    all    their 
movements.       And    no    more    imposing    array     h:.d    ev«  r    gratified 
her  eves.      L<>rd  Uawd.'ii  was  then  in  command  of  the  very  «"•!:•• 
the    British    army.     The    hardy   and    well-tried    provincial    loyalist* 
formed    the   nucleus  of    the  efficient     force    of     near    three    thou- 
men.    which   he   commanded;    and  thoe.   many  of    them  well 
mounted,   and    employed    as    dragoons    and    ritlemen    at     pleasure, 
in    reality,    the    chief     reliance    of     his    government.     The 
EleniaiM   had  been   well   thinned  by  the  harassing   warfare   of    two 
>ns,    and    were    neither    numerous    nor    daring ;     but    nothing 
could    exceed    the     splendid    appearance    of      the    principal    1 
which  he  brought   with    him    from    Charleston,    consisting  of   three 
full   ;  .   fresh  from    Ireland,  with  all  the  glow  of   European 

health    upon   their   cheeks,   full-framed,  strong  and    active  :  martial 
in   their  carriage,  bold    in    action,   and  quite  as  full   of    vivaci' 
courage. 

i  Middleton  beheld  them  as  they  marched  forward  be 
neath  her  eyes,  with  mingling  sentiments  of  pity  and  admiration. 
Poor  fellows!  They  were  destined  to  be  terribly  thinned  and 
humbled  by  the  sabre  of  the  cavalry,  the  deadly  aim  of  the  ritle, 
and  that  more  crushing  enemy  of  all,  the  pestilential  malaria  of 
the  southern  swamps.  H<>w  many  of  that  glowing  and  nume 
rous  cavalcade  were  destined  to  leave  their  bones  along  the 
banks  of  tin;  Wateree  and  Santee,  in  their  long  ami  arduous 
marching-  and  counter  -marchings,  and  in  the  painful  and  peril 
ous  flight  which  followed  to  the  Kutaws  and  from  the  Eul 
to  Chariest,, n.  On  this  flight,  scarce  two  months  aftei.  fifty  of 
these  l.rave  fellows  dropped  down  dead  in  th- 

;    the   victims   of    fatigue,    heat,    and    a    climate   which  m. 
equally     their    mu-clr.     their    courage    and     vivacity  ;     and     which 
not    even    the    natives    at    that    -easmi    could    endure    without    j 
The    brave    and    genen>u>    Maj«.ribanks    himself-    the    most    h 
able  and    valiant    of     enemies -- little    did    Flora    Middleton    fancy. 
as  he   pa  s\vi.rd  point     t  ^   salute, 


THE   SCOUT. 

and  smiled  his  farewell,  while  inarching  at  the  head  of  his  bat 
talion  beneath  the  balcony,  that  h'1,  too.  wa>  wl" 
Should  find  hi:-  grave  along  tlie  highways  of  Carolina,  i'r.u 
ately  alter  the  ablest  of  his  achievements  at  Eutaw,  when1  i<- 
him,  in  particular,  was  due  the  rescue  of  the  British  lion  tYoir 
the  claws  of  the  now  triumphant  eagle. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

MNKTY-SIX  —  A    FLIGHT    BY    MGHT. 

CLAKKM  r,  CO.XWAV,  with  a  single  exception,  had  every  rea 
son  to  be  satisfied  with  the  result  of  his  expedition.  He  had 
lost  but  one  man  slain  ;  and  but  two  were  missing.  ( )ne  of  these. 
as  we.  have  seen,  was  .John  Bannister;  the  other  was  the  un 
happy  lather  of  Mary  Clarkson.  The  reader  is  already  ap 
prized  of  the  situation  of  the  firmer;  of  the  latter  neither  party 
had  any  present  knowledge.  Conway  wns  utterly  ignorant, 
and  very  anxious  about  the  fate  of  his  trusty  agent.  The  loss 
of  John  Uannister  could  not  lie  compensated  to  him,  by  any  suc- 
.  whether  as  a  soldier  or  a  man.  He  was  incomparable 
as  a  scout  ;  almost  as  much  so  in  personal  conJlict;  superior  in 
judgment  in  most  matters  relating  to  partisan  warfare;  but,  over 
all,  he  was  the  friend,  the  ever-faithful,  the  fond;  having  an 
affection  for  his  leader  like  that  of  .Jonathan  of  old,  siirj 
the  love  of  woman. 

Clarence  Conway  did  full  justice  to  this  affection.  He  loitered 
and  lingered  long  that  night  before  leaving  the  Held  of  conflict, 
in  the  hope  to  Bee  the  fusty  fellow  reappear;  and  slow  indeed 
were  his  parting  footsteps  when,  at  the  dawn  of  day,  he  set  hi.- 
little  band  in  motion  for  the  Saluda.  This  measure  w 

-tern  necessity.  He  had  done  all  that  could  !  « 
required  of  him,  and  much  more  than  had  been  expected.  h 
was  i:«l  >upp.»M'd  {hat  with  a  force  so  small  as  his  lie  could  po> 
iibly  oceasiitn  mi)  ii-terniptl-m  or  delay  in  the  progress  »('  ;•!• 


NINI  276 

army  \.i\\y 

'••\\    liail    : 

dom  -,id  Marion  ««n  tin-  •!,•*•. 

Kve: 

cut  otV;   and,  while  havin.r 

inand  of  the  latter  j 
ear?      B  t'the  lati. 

uririn^    the    former   to    hold   out.  had    been    invari.v 

•  1.     Nor 

van    limited   to    these    small    duties   only.       lie    had,   in 
with  Colonel  r.utler,  a  lam"i;->  nan.e  amon^  tin-  xvhi^s  (,f  Xi? 

.  u'marv  t- 

:am,  in  whirh  tin-  troop  nf  the   latter   \\a^   utterly   aunihi- 

.  and   tlu'ir   1.  tin-    ileetness 

of  an   inimitable    steed..     1',  eventfi  t   to   our 

With   a   sad   heart,  hut   no   dimiuuti<  •  i  or  sriirit, 

Colonel  Cunway  tuuk  uj»  the  lijic  •»('  inarrli  for  the  Saluda,  with 

the  purpose  oi  joii  and  Greene  I  ;  or, 

in  t:  .if  that    j.h-u-e  1-ei.  :i  of  the 

•••ii-ans  of  extending  bifl  march  to\van!  t!a-  mountains,  where 

\va>    al><>nt    to    operate 
.ns. 
Hut    though    coin]  ,,f  the 

di  ai-my  in  liis  rear,  h:  |    a  ili^ht.      II: 

th    hanil  was  s-»  comjiact,  ai  '.!    aeijnainti-d  with   the 

of  the  country,  that  he  conld  HIMVI-  at  leisure  in  front  of  th. 

•  pliortunity  for  cutting  off  8\ 
:'  -atin^   t! 
every  jiu.  British,  \\hicl 

'  -chmeut  -  ;i.      Such  j  ur 

ami  sue:.. 
Hut  Ci»n'\  -ih!e  nf  th. 

••ven  with    th"    inf.  !r\   of  tl:-- 

'  In  point  of  nun  ' 

i"r  to   tli.  /.liich 

had    tak'  ,nt    the   1  .  ,  had,  to 

he   -rrat   RUTpme  of  tl  :v  in 


•276  THE  scour. 

this  particular,  which  was  equally  injurious  to  their  hopes  and 
unexpected  by  their  apprehensions.  The  march  of  the  British, 
though  urged  forward  with  due  diligence  by  their  stern  com 
mander,  was,  at  the  same  time,  distinguished  by  such  a  degree 
aution  as  effectually  to  discourage  Conway  in  his  attempts 
:.p<>u  it,  The  onslaught  of  the  previous  night  justified  the  pru- 
.i.-iR-e  of  this  wary  general.  The  audacity  of  the  Americans 
v,  as,  at  this  period,  everywhere  felt  and  acknowledged,  and  b} 
none  more  readily  than  Rawdon.  His  advanced  guard  was  sent 
forward  in  treble  force:  his  provincial  riflemen  skirted  the 
woods  on  the  roadside  while  his  main  army  defiled  between,  and 
his  cavalry  scoured  the  neighboring  thickets  wherever  it  was 
possible  for  them  to  hide  a  foe.  Conway  was  compelled  to  con- 
: ole  himself  with  the  profitless  compliment  which  this  vigilance 
paid  to  his  spirit  and  address ;  and,  after  hovering  for  the  best 
part  of  a  day's  march  around  the  path  of  the  advancing  enemy, 
without  an  opportunity  to  inflict  a  WOAV,  he  reluctantly  pressed 
forward  with  increased  speed  for  Ninety-Six,  to  prepare  General 
Greene  for  the  coming  of  the  new  enemy.  Our  course  is  thither 
also. 

The  post  of  Ninety-Six  was  situated  on  the  crown  of  a  gentle 
but  commanding  eminence,  and  included  within  its  limits  the  vil 
lage  of  the  same  name.  This  name  was  that  of  the  county,  or 
district,  of  which  it  was  the  county-town.  Its  derivation  is 
doubtful ;  but  most  probably  it  came  from  its  being  ninety-six 
miles  from  Prince  George,  at  the  period  of  its  erection  the  fron 
tier  post  of  the  colony.  Its  history  is  one  of  great  local  interest. 
Originally  a  mere  stockade  for  the  defence  of  the  settlers  against 
Indian  incursion,  it  at  length  became  the  scene  of  the  first  con 
flicts  in  the  southern  country,  and  perhaps  in  the  revolutionary 
war.  It  was  here  that,  early  in  1775,  the  fierce  domestic  strife 
lirst  began  between  the  whigs  and  tories  of  this  region; — a  re 
gion  beautiful  and  rich  by  nature,  and  made  valuable  by  art, 
which,  before  the  war  was  ended,  was  turned  into  something 
worse  than  a  howling  wilderness.  The  old  stockade  remained 
at  tho  beginning  of  the  Revolution,  and  when  the  British  overran 
the  state,  they  garrisoned  the  place,  and  it  became  one  of  the 
most  valuable  of  that  cordon  of  posts  which  they  established 


SIMTY-MX —  A     ri.ICHT    I:Y    NKMIT.  -77 

•round  and  within  it.  Its  protection  and  security  were  of  the  last 
importance  to  their  interests.  It  enabled  them  to  maintain  * 
communication  with  the  Cherokecs  and  other  Indians;  and  to 
keep  in  check  the  whig  settlements  on  the  west  of  it,  while  it 
protected  those  **f  the  loyalists,  north,  south,  and  oast.  The 
most  advanced  post  which  they  occupied,  its  position  served  to 
strengthen  their  influence  in  Camden  and  Augusta,  and  assisted 
them  to  overawe  the  population  of  Georgia  and  North  Carolina 
It  was  also,  for  a  long  period,  the  chief  depot  of  recruits ;  and 
drew,  hut  too  successfully,  the  disaffected  youth  of  the  neighbor 
hood  into  the  royal  embrace. 

The  defences  of  this  place  had  hcen  greatly  strengthened  on 
the  advance  of  the  American  army.  Cclonel  Crager,  an  Ameri 
can  loyalist,  who  was  intrusted  with  the  command,  was  an  offi 
cer  of  energy  and  talents,  and  proved  himself  equally  adequate 
and  faithful  to  the  trust  which  was  reposed  in  him.  Calling  in 
the  aid  of  the  neighboring  slaves,  he  soon  completed  a  ditch 
around  his  stockade,  throwing  the  earth  parapet  height  upon  it, 
and  securing  it  within,  by  culverts  and  traverses  to  facilitate 
the  communication  in  safety  between  his  various  points  of  de 
fence.  His  ditch  was  further  secured  by  an  abattis  ;  and,  at 
convenient  distances  within  the  stockade,  he  erected  strong 
block-houses  of  logs. 

But  the  central  and  most  important  point  in  bis  position,  hvj 
in  a  work  of  considerable  strength  —  which  the  curious  in  anti 
quarian  research  and  history  may  see  to  this  day  in  a  state  <•' 
comparative  perfectness  —  called  the  "Star  Battery."  It  stool 
ou  the  southeast  of  the  village  which  it  effectually  commanded, 
was  in  shape  of  a  star,  having  sixteen  salient  and  returning  an 
gles,  and  communicated  by  lilies  with  the  stockade.  In  this 
\\vre  served  three  pi,  :tillery,  which,  for  more  ready 

•ition   to  any  point   of  danger,  were  worked  on  wheel  cai 

( >n  the  north  side  of  the  village   arses  a  copious  fountain,  of 

ral  eyes,  which   flows  through  a  valley.      From  this  rivulet 

the  garrison  obtained  its  supplies  of  water.      The  county  p: 

lying  contiguous  to  this  valley  and  commanding  it,  was   also   t'orti- 

Etsl;   as  v  %i  another  8'ockado  fort,  lying  on  the  opposite  side  of 


THE   SCOUT. 

the   valley,  of   considerable    strength,   ami    Laving   within   it  n 

couple  of  Mock-houses  which  assisted  in  covering  the  comn 
cation  with  the  spring.  A  covert  way  led  from  the  town  to  the 
rivulet  ;  and  the  whole,  including  the  village,  was  enclosed  by 
lines  of  considerable  extent  and  height.  To  defend  his  position, 
Oruger  had  a  select  force  of  six  hundred  men,  many  of  them  rifle- 
men  of  the  first  quality,  and  not  a  few  of  them  lighting,  as  they 
nell  knew,  with  halters  about  their  necks. 

Greene  commenced  the  siege  under  very  inauspicious  circum 
stances  and  with  a  force  quite  inadequate  to  his  object.  This 
'•  formed  one  of  the  most  animated  and  critical  occurrences 
during  the  southern  war,  and  had  already  lasted  near  a  month, 
when  Colonel  Conway  joined  his  little  troop  to  the  force  of  the 
••oniniander-in-chief.  The  available  army  of  Greene  scarcely 
exceeded  that  ot  Cruger.  lie  had  no  battering  cannon;  and 
'ieie  was  no  mode  of  succeeding  against  this  "Star"  redoubt, 
which  was  the  chief  point  of  defence,  but  in  getting  over  or 
under  it.  Both  modes  were  resolved  upon.  Regular  approaches 
were  made,  and,  on  the  completion  of  the  first  parallel,  a  mine  was 
begun  under  cover  of  a  battery  erected  on  the  enemy's  right. 

This  work  was  prosecuted   day  and   night.     No  interval  wat 
permitted.     One  party  labored,  while  a  second  slept,  and  a  thin: 
guarded   both.     The  sallies  of  the  besieged  were  constant  and 
desperate  ;   not  a  night  passed  without  the  loss  of  life  on  both 
sides ;  but  the  work  of  the  Americans  steadily  advanced.     The 
:nl   parallel  was  at  length  completed,  the  enemy  summoned 
to  surrender,  and  a  defiance  returned  to  the  demand.     The  third 
'del  was  then  begun,  and   its  confpletion  greatly  facilitated 
by  the,  invention  of  a  temporary  structure  of  logs,  which)  froir 
the  h:\entors  name,  were  called   the  "  Mahain  towers."     The.-e, 
,  in   fact,  nothing  more    than  block-houses,   constructed   of 
.  v  timbers,  raided    to   a   height  superior  to  that  of  the  belea 
guered  fort,  and  filled  with  riflemen.     These  sharp-shooton 
ceeded,  in  a  little  time,  in  driving  the  artillerists  of  the  garrison 
from  their  guns.     Hot  shot  were  tried  to  destroy  the  towers,  but 
th«  greenness  nf  the  wood,  in  June,  rendered  the  efl'on  un;i\  ail 
ing.     TIu;  artillery  of  the   "Star"  could  no   longer   be  used   by 
daylight,  and  by  night  it  was  little  to  be  dreaded 


!  — A     FLIC  IIT    i:1) 

.      Their    pro! 

fa>t  failing  tin  in  ;    they  COttld  :ure    f..r  \\atei 

•  ulet.      "W  ..ployed  for  tliis  pi. 

I  mer  in  won., -u's  clothing;   and  hy  night  they  reo 
1p   of  naked    i  Other   m 

:  conveyai,   e.      Burning  ar:  B  sli«»t  in: 

.ptly    threw  oil'   tl. 

AM  attempt  \\  .  <y  tlie    ahatti.x   by  lire,  hut    <ln-u- 

th  mi  every  one   of  the   daring   fellows  who   ath'inj.led 

Maham  t<»\\  eiv.,"  mu1  of  which  was  within  thirty 

ditch,  the   he  ..-lal 

.  and 

v.itliin    one    hundred    and    forty  yards    of  the  "Star,"  80   com- 
ly  commanded  it,  that  it  hecanie  ne( 

tdevation.      1)  i    f,,r 

Through  tin  left  lor  the  use  of 

••  al    of  the   sand-bag.*  hy  hL 

.   for  the  use  of  the  artillery.      Pdoody  and   deadlv  was  the 
for  ten   days,  hetween   the   comhatants.      Dur- 
•«l   not  a  man   could  show    himself,   on  either 
w'ti-  -ving    a    shot.       A>     the    conflict    aj.jiroached    its 

termination    it    .seemed    to    acquire    increased    rancor;    and   an 
-tion,  under  diflerent   motives,  appeared   to  govern 
both   par: 

<>uld  not  he  sustained  long  ;   and  the  fall  of  the  ga 
•'it    h.md.  still    held    out    in  the  : 

.    his  commamici.      He  i,a  i  .-uiiicieiit 
:ural   courage  which  the  good  soldier 
..iking    him    defend    hi 

whom   no  in- 

<lulr'  ,  tors  — men  whose 

Bloody  ,lee«ls   had 

ii    are  allow.  per   with 

But    th,  -  and 

the  iv.soluti-.s.  ^npply  ti.- 

r  which    ;  (  )Mly  1( 

werr 
gallantly  LWo  u.  iln. 


28U  THE  SCOUT. 

portance  for  good  or  evil  to  the  two  parties.  In  this  period  the 
American  commander  was  apprized  of  the  circumstances  which 
rendered  it  necessary  that  the  place  should  be  earned  by  assault 
or  the  siege  raised.  The  arrival  of  Conway  announced  the  ap 
proach  of  Rawdon,  and  the  same  night  furnished  the  same  im 
portant  intelligence  to  Cruger.  But  for  this  intelligence  that 
very  night  must  have  witnessed  the  surrender  of  the  post. 

The  circumspection  and  close  watch  which  had  been  maintain 
ed  so  long  and  so  well  by  the  American  general  and  his  able 
subordinates,  and  which  had  kept  the  garrison  in  utter  ignorance 
of  the  march  of  Rawdon  from  Charleston,  was  defeated  at  the 
last  and  most  important  moment  from  a  quarter  which  had  ex 
cited  no  suspicions.  The  circumstance  has  in  it  no  small  portion 
of  romance.  A  young  lady,  said  to  be  beautiful,  and  certainly 
bold  —  the  daughter  of  one  tried  patriot  and  the  sister  of  an 
other — had  formed  in  secret  a  matrimonial  connection  with  a 
British  officer,  who  was  one  of  the  besieged.  Her  residence 
was  in  the  neighborhood,  and  she  was  countenanced,  in  visiting 
the  camp  with  a  flag,  on  some  pretence  of  little  moment.  She 
was  received  with  civility  and  dined  at  the  general's  table. 
Permitted  the  freedom  of  the  encampment,  she  was  probably 
distinguished  by  her  lover  from  the  redoubt,  and  contrived  to 
convey  by  signs  the  desire  which  she  entertained  to  make  some 
communication  to  the  besieged.  The  ardor  of  the  lover  and 
the  soldier  united  to  infuse  a  degree  of  audacity  into  his  bosom, 
which  prompted  him  to  an  act  of  daring  equally  bold  and  suc 
cessful.  He  acknowledged  her  signal,  darted  from  the  redoubt, 
received  her  verbal  communication,  and  returned  in  safety 
amidst  a  shower  of  bullets  from  the  baffled  and  astonished  sen 
tinels.  Such  is  the  story  told  by  tradition.  It  differs  little 
from  that  which  history  relates,  and  in  no  substantial  particular; 
v,  hat  is  obscure  in  the  tale,  but  increases  what  is  romantic.  The 
Jcu  dc  joie  of  the  besieged  and  their  loud  huzzas  apprized  the 
American  general  of  their  new  hopes;  and  too  plainly  assured 
him  that  his  labor  was  taken  in  vain. 

Colonel  Conway  was  admitted  that  night  to  the  tent  of  the 
general,  where  a  council  of  war  was  to  be  held  as  to  the  course 
uow  to  be  pursued.  Gitttmc  necessarily  presided.  Unmoved 


V    M'JIIT.  28] 

by  disappointment,  unembarrassed  by  the  probable  defeat  of  bis 

bopcs    and    purposes,   this    cheerful    and    brave    soldier    li>. 
around  him  witli  a  smile  of  good  humor  upon  his  military  family 
while   he    s.-licitpd   the:.  '  opinions.      His  line  manly  face, 

bronzed    hy  tho    fierce  -Inures  of  the  southern   sun,  and   he', 
ened    hy  ar.    «-ye    •  •!'  eijual    spirit  and  benevolence,  wore  : 
that    dark    di-  and    sulh'ii    ferocity,  the    sure    token    '-i 

vindictive  and  had  feelings,  which  scowled  in  the  whole  vi 
of  his  aide  opponent,  Rawdon.  A  slight  obliquity  of  vision, 
tlie  re-ult  of  small-pox  in  his  youth,  did  not  impair  the  s\s  eel 
of  his  glance,  though  it  was  sufficiently  obvious  in  the 
which  it  affected.  Conway  had  seen  him  more  than  once  be 
fore,  but  never  to  so  much  advantage  us  now,  when  a  defeat  feo 
is  as  that  which  threatened  his  hopes,  and  rendered  ne- 
ry  tin1  measure  of  consultation  then  in  hand.  lie  looked 
for  the  signs  of  peevishness  and  vexation  but  he  saw  none 
tiling  of  anxiety  may  have  clouded  the  brow  of  the  com 
mander  but  such  an  expression  only  serves  to  ennoble  the  coun 
tenance  of  the  man  whose  pursuits  are  elevated  and  wh".-e  p<  r- 
formances  .ire  worthy.  Anxiety  makes  the  human  countenance 
only  the  more  thoroughly  and  sacredly  human.  It  i>  the  sign 
of  care,  and  thought,  and  labor,  and  hope — of  all  the  moral 
attributes  which  betoken  the  mind  at  work,  and  most  usually  at 
its  legitimate  employments. 

(  >n   the   right   hand   of  Greene  sat  one  who  divided  between 
himself  and  theeommander-in-chief  the  attention  of  the  ardent 

you:  in.      This  was    the    celebrated    polish    patriot    K 

ciuxko.      He  had  served   throughout   the  siege  as  chief  engii 

,  under  his  guidance,  the  several  approaches  had  been  made. 
HU  tall,  erect,  military  form,  pale,  thin  and  melancholy  features, 
light  brown  hair,  already  thinned  above  his  lofty  brow,  together 
with  the  s.»l't  blue  eye  which  lightened  them  up  at  momenta 
with  alnm.st  girlish  animation,  seemed  to  the  mind  of  O>nway 
ibly  touching.  The.  fate  and  name  of  Ko.-ciuxko  were 
so  intimately  connected  with  those  of  his,  country,  that  the  eye 
of  the  ;  ;  beheld  the  mifteriei  .  f  Poland  in  the  sad 

features   of  its    melancholy  exile.      lli>    ITOlds,    few,  and    sweet- 
toed   *B  it  were   by  the   ii.  i'.n^lish   in  which  thoy  were 


THE   SCOUT. 


l,  riveted  tin-  attention  of  all,  and  were  considered  with 
marked  deference  by  the  commander,  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
Iressed. 

There   were   many  other   brave   men   at   that   council-board, 
some  of  whom  Clarence  Con  way  now  beheld  for  the  first  time, 
whose   deeds  and   reputation   had   reached  hi>  vars,  and   whose 
us  lie  now  examined  with  momently-growing  inter. 

There  was  Lee  of  the  legion,  whom  Greene  emphatic-ally  styled 
the  eye  and  wing  of  his  army;   Campbell  of  the  Virginians,  who 
subsequently  fell  at  the  Eutaw,  while  bravely  leading  on  his  •. 
mand  ;    Kirkwood  of  the.  Delaware*,  happily   designated   as  the 
continental  Diomed,  a  soldier  of  delightful  daring;  Howard  oi 
Mary  landers  ;    Rudolph  of  the  legion,  Armstrong,  and   Benson, 
and  others,  whose  presence  would   enlighten  any  council-board, 
as   their  valor   had    done  honor  to   every  field   in    which    ; 
fought.      Our   hero    had    enough    to   do,  after   conveying   to    ih  ••• 
council   all   his   intelligence,  to    note    and    study  the   feature 
his  associates  —  to  weigh  the  words  which  they  uttered  —  and  to 
endeavor,  for  himself,  to  judge  in  what  degree  they  several!  v 
deserved    the   high   reputations  which    they  bore,     lie  wa> 
disposed   or  prepared,  perhaps,  to   offer  any  suggestions  himself. 
He  was  better  pleased  to  study  and  to  listen. 

The  consultation  was  brief.     The,  points  to  be  discussed  weie 
few. 

"You   perceive,   gentlemen,"  said   Greene,  opening    th> 
'jeedings,  "that  our  toils  appear  to  have   been  all   taken  in  vain. 
Apprized   of   Lord    Rawdon's   approach,  the   garrison   will    now 
hold   out  until  the  junction  is  cii'ccted,  and   for  that  \v» 
wait;    we  are  in  no    condition   to   meet   Lord    Rawdon   sill 
handed.      Colonel    Conway,  wh-  '  ms  merit  my  waime>t 

acknowledgments,  represents  his  force  as  ijuite  too  formidable 
for  anything  that  we  can  oppose  to  him.  lie  brings  with  him 
three  fresh  regiments  from  Ireland,  the  remains  of  the  regiment 
of  P.oxe,  near  six  hundred  loyalists  whom  he  has  mounted  as 
lea  Coffin's  dragoons  —  in  all,  an  army  little  short 
of  three  thousand  men.  To  this  we  can  oppose  scarce,  eight 
hundred  in  camp  raid  fit  for  duty  ;  Marlon  an  i  Sumter  a/e  too 
far,  ;u;d  Ion  lui>y  In-low,  to  lcu\' 


NINETY-SIX-  -A    i  i.h, in    u\    «( 

rion   lef-  ':hin   striking  <  and  the 

of  bis  lordship  in  H'.ch  force  will  Iring  i.ut  Cunningham 

ami    Harrison,  With    all   their   loyalists,  \\]\n   will    give    suth'cient 

:>d  Washington  above,     Ii.  I 

(••lines    absolutely  •.  ;    I.ut  shall  our   lahors   here   for  the 

la>t  month  he  thrown  away.'  Sh:.!l  IT6  give  up  '  Xinet\ 
without  a  struggle?  Shall  we  not  make  the  effort  t-. 
the  po.-t.  and  In-hind  its  walls  prepare  tor  the  rcccpti-  D 

,,!,/" 

The  unanimous  opinion  of  the  council  tallied  with  the  wishes 
ot    the    commander.       Tin*    assault    was    resolved    upon.       The 

given   out  that  night,  and    the  army 
all  in  ivadines^  on  the  morning  of  the   iMh  of  June  to  make  the 

i  attempt.      The  forlorn  hope  was  led,  on    the  American  . 
against    the  •  Star'  hattery,  hy    I.ieutei:;Mi!s    Seld-m    and    DuvaL 
Close  In-hind   them   followed   a   party  furnished  with  hook-  : 

particular  duty  it  was  to   pull    down  the 
hags    which    the    enemy    had    raised    upon    their    parapet. 

1  <  \t  advanced   to  the  assault  at  the 

the  tir.xt  Maryland  and  Virginian  re-  These  all  marched 

under   cover  of  the   approach,'-,  until    they    came  within    a 

-  of  the  enemy's   ditch.       Major  Rudolph    commanded    the 
forlorn    hope   on   the  American  right    again-t    I  sup- 

•   1  hy  the  legion  infantry,  and  Kirk\v- 
.  the  rifle-towers,  and  all  the  American  w 
and    prepared    to   -weep   the    enemy's    parapet,  juvvior 

: "lining    party.      Duval    and 
the  ahattis  and   occupy  the   opposite  curtain,  then,  dr: 

•..  wen-    to   open    the  way  for   the  \\"rkmen. 

sand-lags  pullr  I  .iown,  Camphell  was  to  make  the  attack,  avail- 
himself  of   the:r   aid    in    clamleriug    up    the    para; 

•  !     the  assault  upon    the   stockades,  of  which, 

niply    to    keep    possession    . 
eve: 

: 

which  was    followed    hy  the    prompt    movement  of   the  storming 
parties.       An    uninterrupted    Maze    of  artillery   a;  .ring 

•ove;  f  the  forlorn  1  M  it* 


84  Tin;  BCOl  r. 

shadowing  smokes,  this  gallant  little  band  leaped  the  ditch  and  com 
menced  the  work  of  destruction. 

But  the  besieged  who  had  so  bravely  and  for  so  long  a  ti  un 
defended  their  ramparts,  and  whom  the  approach  of  Lord  Raw- 
don  had  inspired  with  fresh  confidence  and  courage,  was  prepared 
for  their  reception.  They  met  the  attack  with  equal  cool 
ness  and  determination.  The  assailants  were  encountered  by 
bristling  bayonets  and  leveled  pikes,  which  lined  the  para 
pet,  while  a  stream  of  fire,  poured  forth  from  intervals  between 
the  sand-bags,  was  productive  of  dreadful  havoc  among  them. 
The  form  of  the  redoubt  gave  to  the  besieged  complete  command 
over  the  ditch,  and  subjected  the  besiegers  to  a  cross 
fire,  which  the  gradual  removal  of  the  abattis  only  tended 
to  increase. 

For  the  details  of  this  action,  the  reader  will  look  to  other  his 
tories.  Enough  if,  in  dealing  with  this  (to  us)  purely  episodical 
matter,  we  give  the  result.  The  attempt  was  desperate  ;  but  so  was 
the  hope.  The  Americans  fought  well,  but  on  the  most  unfortunate 
terms  of  eombat.  This  is  not  the  place  to  criticise  the  transaction  ; 
but  some  day,  the  military  critic  will  find  it  instructive  to  review 
this,  among  other  great  actions  of  our  revolutionary  war,  and  will  be 
able  to  point  out  clearly  the  miserable  mistakes,  the  result  of 
equal  ignorance  and  imbecility,  by  which  the  native  valor  of 
the  people  were  continually  set  at  naught.  There  were  mistakes 
enough  in  this  siege  and  assault  of  'Ninety  Six,'  to  decide 
the  latter  before  it  was  begun.  Knou.irh  now,  that  the  day 
-I  almost  M^  soon  a>  heirun.  The  hope  of  the  assailants,  small 
at  the  beginning,  was  very  soon  utterly  dissipated  ;  and 
mortified  and  pained,  less  at  being  battled  than  at  the  loss  of 
so  many  brave  men,  Greene  gave  the  orders  which  discontinued  the 


Yet,  for  near  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  did  these  brave  fel 
lows  persist,  notwithstanding  the  fall  of  tv.o-thirds  of  their  num 
ber  and  both  their  leaders.  This  daring  and  enduring  courage 
enabled  them  to  occupy  the  curtain,  and  maintain,  hand  to  hand, 
the  conflict  witli  the  garrison.  They  yielded  at  length,  rather 
to  the  summons  of  their  commander  than  to  their  own  fear  of 
danger.  The  greater  part  of  their  men  were  killed  or  wounded 


NINETY-SIX-  -  \    PLIGHT  r^     N  IOB  r. 

but     the    latter    wen-    brought     oil    amid    tin-    h»tUM     I'm-    of    the 
garrison. 

The  misfortunes  of  Greene  did  not  end  here.  The  British  general 
was  at  hand,  and  tlu-  dead  being  buried,  the  American  (•••nmiander 
struck  his  tents  and  commenced  the  retreat  which  carried  Clap 
Conway  still  further  from  a  re-ion  in  which  all  hN  feelinjs  and  aiix- 
I  were  now  deeply  and  doubly  interested.  \Ve  will  not  attempt 
to  pursue  his  tlight.  but,  retrar-invr  our  steps  in  a  quarter  to  which  he 
d-ire  not  turn,  we  will  resume  our  mareh  ah-mr  wilh  that  of  tl:e  Brit 
ish  army,  when  they  left  the  Middleton  barony  to  advance  upon 
Ninety 

But,  in  goiiiLT  i,a,.k  to  Brier  Park,  it  is  not  our  purpose  at  this  time 
totr<  in  upon  its  inmates.      \Ve  •.hall  simply  join   company 

with  our  ancient  friend,  John  Bannister,  and  traee  his  progress,  as  a 
prisoner,  in  the  train  of  his  captors. 

Watson   (iray   -having    been    intrusted    by  vdon    with 

tin-  exclusive    disposition    of    this  business   in    con-eouenee.  of    the 

•ions  which   the  latter    had    made    him    the    niiiiit     1" 
had    very    naturally    assigned    the    cu-tody     of     tlie    x-oiit     to     tin- 
Black   Riders   of  whom,  under  a  roving    conumV-ion,   (Jray  ranked 
a>  an    inferior    otlicer.      lie    had    every    n-n-mi     for    believing    the 
charge   to    lie    a    secure    one.       Bannister    had   IOIILT    been    an    ol 
of  dislike  and  apprehension  to  this  troop,  a^  he  had  on  several  . 
^ions     di-<-overed      their      in  and      beaten      up 

their  quarters  Hi-  ^kill  in  the  woods  was  proverbial,  and 
dreaded  by  all  hi<  enemies  accordingly  ;  and  the  recent  display 
which  he  had  made  in  the  case  of  (iray  himself,  of  that  readi- 
MH  «.f  reSOOrM  which  hail  rendered  him  famous,  was  very  well 
cjilcuiated  to  mortify  the  latter,  and  make  him  dedTOCH  of  sub 
:ng  his  own  captor  to  all  the  annoyance  likely  to  follow 

captivity. 

Whatever    may     have     been    the     moti\e^    by     which     l.< 
•  rued    in    this    proceeding,    i'     was     very     -.id'iit    that     Supple 
!  could   not    have    been    put     into  1, -x>    indulgent    eu-tody.      But 
circum-tanee-    batllc    tl,  in    spite    of    all    p:veaut: 

events    which  are    utterly    beyond    human    foresight   suili'; 

•nfoiMul    all    the  ealeulations   ,,f    the  euiinin^.     -.b.1111   Bam. 
found    a    friend    among    the    Black    Uiders    wlim    he  little 


Tin 

one.      When  the  enemy  came   to  a  halt  that    night,  which 
till    a    tolerably   late  hour,    their  :     on   tin-  northern 

.  f  ihc  Little  Saluda,  just  within  the  line  of  the  present 
diMrict  of  IMgd'ald:  a  eoirma;i<!ing  spot  was  chosen  for  the 
bivouac,  and  every  precaution  taken  to  se<  live  ii  from  distnrbanee 
for  the  ni_ 

Tlie    preparation-    l"i.r  supper    produced   tin-    customary   stir  and 
excitement  for  a  while;  but   the  supper  itself    \va-  BOOB   discu-- 

fatigue     had     lessened    appetite,    and    sleep    was    alone 

:;ible    to    the    :  which    had    been    pressed    forward   to 

the   utmoM    of  thiir  marching    powers,  from  the  \i-ry   ili>t    moment 

ef     their    leaving    Charles. -n.       The     Intense    heat    of    the   climate, 

at     that    sea—::,     mode     this    tusk    an     inappreciably    severe 

Iry    liail  been,  if  possible,    still   m< 

than    those    of  the    infantry:    compelled.   R8  th<y    cor.M.-mtly    W< 
\n    make     continual     and    large     cir<  :g_h     the     country, 

;;;d    the    15'  :  ch    of    the   army,   in    order   to    defeat  the 

•dual  ambuscades  of  the  Americans,  who,  in  small  parties, 
hovend  about  the  march,  and  made  frequent  dashes,  w1  ich  -were 
ahijo-t  as  suece>vfu!  as  frequent,  whenever  (»i>portunily.  or 

of    the    enemy    seemed    to   invite    adventure.      For    the 

lime,    for    a    long  period,   the    cireum-  the  campaign 

med    to    promise    impunity    t-«  I,    ^i'h    a 

])!easant    feelii;g   of     relief,    the    British    tr-  ind    to    make 

1    of    their    scc-.irili. 

the  only  obj.-r  Ire;   and  tl:e  Bcveral   groups  ccouched 

il    beneath   the   forest    trees;    without   much   pause  or  ch- 
siiikii:.-.--    down    simply     in  th«  upon    the   (Try     leave-,    with 

!  about  them. 

T  .  , -k  Riders  v.ere  stationed  lu-si.!.-  a  grove  which  skirted 
one  of  the  forks  of  the  Litile  Saluda,  and  were  not  the  het  1o 

| 

entire    In  op,  'her 

.-,,  .up   being  fastentd 

:eh    slidteied    their 

rider  .  in    order  that    they  miirht    '"'   '''•;u!.v   :lt    ll:lll(1    in   !lll.v  SI: 

•iads  lay  John  U«- 


NINETY-SIX  —  A    FLItii. 

bound  hand  ami   foot  ;   tlie  bandages   upon  the  latter  mem 
oers  being  only  put  on  for  sleeping   purposes,  to  lie  withdrawn 
when   the    march   was  resumed.     A    few  rods  distant,  paced  a 
sturdy  sentinel,  to  whom  the  douMe  duty  was  entrusted  of  k 
ing  oijual  watch  upon   the  horses  ami  the  prisoner.     With  this 
'.    .  :mister  was  almost   the  only  person  whose   eyes 
ealed  by  slumber  in  the  encampment  of  the  dragoons. 
11      I        -...iki  -t'ul   through  anxiety  and  thought ;   for,  though  one 
of  the  m  :ul  and   elaMic  creatures  breathing,  he  had  toe 

many  subjects   of  serious   apprehension,  to   suffer  him  to  enjoy 
that  ivpose  which   his  body  absolutely  needed.     There  was  yet 
:ier   reason  to   keep  him  wakeful.     He  was   very  far  from 
being  resigned  to  his  fate.     He  had  no  taste  for  the  condition  of 
the  prisoner;  and   the   moment  that  found  him  a  captive  found 
him  meditating  schemes  for  his  own  deliverance.     His  plans  had 
to  himself  entirely.     He  was  one  of  those  self  depend 
ent  people,  who   never  care  to  look  abroad   for   those    rrxnirces 
which   may    be,   found  within;  and,  closing  h:  .'.here   he 

la>  ,  and  affecting  the  sleep  which  he  could  not  obtain,  he  wea 
ried  himself  with  the  examination  of  a  hundred  different  plans 
for  escaping  from  his  predicament. 

While  he  lay  in  this  position  he  heard  some  one  approach  ami 
k  to  the  sentinel.     A  brief  dialogue  ensued  between  them, 
carried  on   in  teims  ijuite  too  low  to  be  distinguished  by  him  ; 
but  the  tonef  of  the  stranger'-  \  familiar  to  the 

of  the  listener.      Bannister  opened   his  eyes  and  discerned  the 
two  persons;  but,  in  consequence  of  the  umbrage  of  the  t 
between,  he  could  only  see  their  lower  limbs;  after  a  while  one 
of  th>  1,  and  fancying  that  it  was  the  stranger,  and 

that   the    sentinel   would   again    resume   his  duties,  the 
again  shut    his  eyes  ami  tried  to  ICM;  train  of  meditati«.i. 

which  the  intrusion  had  disturbed.      He  had   not  long  been  thus* 
when  he  was  .startle'!   by  the  low  accents  of  some  one 

iid   the   trunk   ..f  the    tree  against  which   his  !. 
was  leaned,  and  addressing  him  by  name. 

•'Wh  :ithe  same  whispering  tone* 

io  which  hi-  had  been  addressed 
•    ^  friend." 


288  THE   SCOUT. 

"Who?" 
"  Muggs." 
"What,  Isaacs?" 
"The  same." 

"  Ah,  you  varmint  !  after  I  convarted  you,  you'll  still  follow  the 
British." 

"Hush!"  whispered  the  other,  with  some  trepidation  in  his 
tones.  "For  God's  sake,  not  so  loud.  Stockton  and  Darcy  and  two 
more  are  just  under  the  oaks  to  the  left,  arid  I'm  jub'ous  they're  half 
awake  now." 

"  But  how  come  you  here,  Muggs  ?" 

"  Why,  nateral  enough.  1  hearn  the  army  was  on  its  march,  and 
I  reckoned  there  was  guineas  to  be  got  by  way  in  exchange  f«r  rum 
and  sugar;  so  I  hitched  horse  and  wagon  together,  and  turned 
sutler  for  the  troop  as  I  used  to;  and  mighty  glad  are  they  to 
me:  and  mighty  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Jack  Bannister,  and 
to  try  and  give  you  a  help  out  of  your  hitch." 

"I'm  jub'ous  of  you,  Isaac  Muggs.  I'm  afeard  you  ain't  had 
a  full  convarsion." 

"  Don't  you  be  afeard.     Trust  to  me." 

"How?  Trust  to  you  for  what?  Will  you  loose  me  —  git 
me  a  horse  and  a  broadsword  —  hey?  Can  you  do  this  for  the 
good  cauM-.  Isaac  and  prove  your  convarsion  ?" 

"Don't  talk,  but  turn  on  your  side  a  leetle,  so  that  I  can  feel 
where  your  hands  are  tied.  Be  quick  —  I  hain't  much  time  to 
spare.  Ben  CJeiger,  who  is  your  sentry,  is  gone  to  my  wagon  to 
get  a  drink,  and  will  be  back  pretty  soon,  and  I'm  keeping  watch 
for  him,  and  a  mighty  good  watch  I'll  keep*" 

"There — cut,  Muggs,  and  let  me  git  up ;  but  you  must  cut 
the  legs  loose  too.  They've  hitched  me  under  and  over,  as  ef  I 
was  a  whole  team  by  myself." 

"And  so  you  are,  John  Bannister;  but  you  mustn't  git  up 
when  1  cut  you  loose." 

"Thunder!  and  why  not,  Muggs?  What's  the  UM-  of  losing 
foot  and  liir_r<  i  -,  if  one's  not  to  use  them 

"Not  jest  yet;  because  that'll  lie  getting  lien  (Ji-iger  into  a 
scrape,  and  me  at  'the  back  of  it.  V  ni  must,  wait  till  he\ 
changed  for  another  sentry,  and  till  I  gives  the  signal.  I'll 


,  —  \    II. K, in     Bl     NTGHf,  280 

whittle    for   you   the  old    boat  horn    tune    that's   carried    you   many 
night    along   the    <  you    remember?     Well     when 

y«»u   hear  that   you   may   know   that    the   sentry'-   changed.       Then 
watch    the    time,    and    when   the   t'other  sentinel   draws  oil    to\\anl 
you  can   crawl  through   them   gum  buahefl   on  all   fours 
and    git    into    the    hay.      As   for    the   horse.    I'm   jub'oits  tin  . 
liettin.u  They'll    make    too    much    trampling.       Hut    I'll 

.  "U   on    t'other  side  of    the   bay,    and    brim:   voii   a   pi.-tol,  or 
sword,  or  whatever   I   can  tind." 

••  Well,    \\ell  '       You    bring    the    sword    and    pistol.       It'll    bo 
mighty    hard,    where    there's    so    many,    if    I     can't     find    tl 
myself." 

"  Work  your  hands."  <-,i\<\  the  landlord. 

"They're   free!   they're    free:"    \v:S-    the    exulting    response    of 

it.  alimxl  too  loudly  expressed  for  prudence. 

"  Ilu-h.   for  <;.,d's  snke!    and    don't    halloo   until    you're   out    of 
i-h.      Take   the    knife  now   in    your  own    hands,    and    cut 
your   feet.       IJut    you   mu-t    lie  (jiiiet.    and   let   the  roj 
jr-t     \\heiv    they    are.        Make    li'lieve   you're    :^leep   till    you    hear 
my    whistle,    and    then    crawl    olT    as    if    you    wen-   all    bell 

-  quiet   as  a   lilack-nakc.      I    must    leave  ymi   now. 
mod  lime  for  Hen  Geiger  to  get  back." 

The  scout  did  no'  await  a  second  suggestion  to  apply  the  keen 
edge  of  the  hunter's  knife,  which  the  landlord  furnished  him,  to 
the  c.ir.N  \\hi--h  fastened  his  feet.  Tlu-e  he  drew  up  n; 
with  the  satisfaction  of  one  who  i<  pleaded  to  exercise  and  enjov 
the  unexrwM  ted  liberty  \\hieh  lie  receives;  but  the 
of  the  landlord,  which  were  certainly  thove  of  common  sense, 
i  him  to  limit  the*,-  BXerdM*,  and  nMrain  his  impatient 
members,  till  the  time  should  arrive  for  u-ing  them  with  advan 
l:iii«-  II"  aeeordiiiL-l;.  compoM-d  liim>.-lf  and  them,  in  Mich  a 
manner  n-  to  pn-rrve  the  appearance  of  iv-traint;  arranur«-«l  the 
of  tin-  ropes  above  his  ankles,  and  tucked  in  the 
-'vend  end  D  and  In-low.  Then.  |»a->inir  hi-  hand-  be 

hind  him.  I  he  lay  on  hi-  back  (mt-trelched  v.-ith  ;lll  the 

commendable   patien>  -  ie  philo-oj.her   awaiting  the  r»pera 

!"  that   fate  with  which   he  holds  it   folly  if  not  impertinence 
to  interfere. 

M 


•JIM)  T1IK    SCOTT. 

The    landlord,  meanwhile,  had    resumed    the    duties  of    th< 
.    and    was    pacing   the    measured    ground    with    the  regularity 

ran,  and  the  linn  step  of  one  who  is  conscious  of  no 
failure  of  duty.  The  scout's  e\  es  naturally  turned  up.ni  him 
with  an  expression  of  greatly  increase;!  regard. 

••\\ell."  said    he.   in    a    mental    soliloquy,    "I  was  half    jub'ous 

;.)   lick   Muirgs  over  agin,  before  he  could  he  b 

way   of    thinking.      I   was   mightily    afeard    th::; 
had  half  an  understanding  of  the  truth  when   I  gin  him  thai 
hoist    on    the     YVater-.-e;    but    it's    a    (Jod's   providence    that    orders 
all  tilings,   in   his  blessed  mercy,  for  the  best,  and  lets  one  licking 
answer    for   a   stout   man's   convarsion.       I'm   jub'ous,     if     MI; 
had'nt  ha'  lost  one  arm  in  the  wars,  if  he  would  have  ondeistood 
the   liberties  we're  righting   for  hal      so   easily.     Liberty's   a   dilli- 
eul?  thing  to  l)e  1,1.  at   first.     It  takes  mighty  hard  knocks 

and  a  h^ap  of  thinking,  to  make  it  stand  out  (Tar  in  the  day 
light;  and  then  it's  never  half  so  (Tar,  or  half  so  sweet,  as  when 
there's  some  danger  that  we're  going  to  lose  it  for  ever,  for  good 
and  all.  If  ever  I  wanted  to  teach  a  friend  of  mine  how  to  be 
lieve  in  the  reason  of  liberty,  I'd  jis  lock  him  up  in  a  good  strong 
jail  for  three  months,  or  mou't  be  six,  put  on  a  hitch  of  plough- 
line  on  hands  and  legs,  and  then  argy  with  him  to  i 
<;<>d  made  a  mighty  great  mistake  when  he  gin  a  man  a  pair  of 
feet  and  a  pair  of  hands,  when  he  might  see  for  hims.  If  that  he 
could  sleep  in  the  stumps  at  both  ends  and  never  feel  the  want 
of  'em.  Hut  there  conies  Hen  (Jeiger,  1  suppose,  and  I  must  lie- 
as  if  my  legs  were  stumps  only.  Lord!  I'll  show  'em  another 

of  argyment  as  soon  as  Isaac  gi\vs  that  old  Coin 
whistle.  It's  only  some  twenty  steps  to  the  wood,  and  1  reckon 
'it  can't  be  much  more  to  the  bay,  lor  the  airth  looks  B8  if  it 
wanted  to  sink  mighty  sudden.  Thc^r  chaps  round  me  snort 
very  loud  —  that's  a  sign;  I've  always  hcarn,  of  sound  sleep 
ing.  I  don't  much  mind  the  resk  of  getting  oil  to  the  bay;  bill 
J'ni  gettil  i  about  the  ribs  to  valk  ftloDg'Wayin  this  hot 

weath  •]'.  i  i'   no  Qoise,   1    mu-t    pick  "Ut   one  of    them    I 

for  the   fourney.       Let  'em  snort.      1  don't    much,  mind  pistol-lml- 
leta    when    they    tly    by   night  at   a    running    hoi>eman.       Tl< 
lik"    them    that    shoot    'em.       They   make   a    ureat    bellowing.    I"'-" 


tin  \ 
It'll 

' 
wall.  Jhat 

pment.     T\v«i  I'M!!  i. 

i  la; 

;     for    tin  ::  hand.        B 

wailing    n-.ic,  BUCll  !an- 

ih"  '  tman,  ta  i 

rapid,  rushing  riv,  r 

and  y  that    h:\  :'nun 

which    1,:  :;ely  free.       He    nil 

.Mid   yawned    aiidilily  whi  un 

the    I  catdi    li.  : 

•it      to      tl.' 

I>ut   •  not    nee-  •itidi-ncc    t 

a   t.  HUH  r,  :t,  and  s  >   adroit    a   BO  >Ut.     '!' 

had 

ipon  bistnareh;  and  .uivin.;-  xiillicit  nt   tii. 
MIC  their  own  pared   his::- 

for  }i\^  in. 

!.   \\hich  \vould    ha  ;Miportanee.  and 

%ituation. 

really  of    lit!!.  \\  ill,  ilK.    ;  •    |,js 

hands    a:.  ::t    dillicully    a>    fully    at    an 

The    ri-U  i.f    pistol-«l]  .iilo. 

«|iiy 

in    \\hich  -Ahirh    In-   had    in- 

cnrr.  ,1  a   hundred   : 

'•(>n!  i  ;    tin-   Indian   tl  in 

the     thick     hay    which 
him 

.'    all,    it    uas   mi    ti, 


TTII:  SCOUT. 

the  cluster  that  were  attached  to  the  swinging  limbs  of  the  adja 
cent  oaks.  He  felt  that,  with  the  opportunity  before  him,  and  wiih 
choice  allowed,  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to  choose  with  reference 
to  his  reputation  no  less  than  to  his  escape.  To  choose  an  inferior 
brute,  having  the  pick  of  the  best,  would  have  argued  greatly 
against  the  understanding  of  the  scout,  and  would  have  filled  his 
soul  with  a  bitter  sense  of  mortification.  But  hear  him,  as  he 
deliberates,  and  you  will  be  satisfied  that  lie  is  not  the  person  to 
throw  away  a  good  chance,  and  disregard  the  value  of  a  proper 
choice. 

"There's  a  dark  bay,  I'm  thinking,  that,  as  well  as  I  can 
make  out  in  the  moonlight,  is  about  the  best.  The  black  is  a 
monstrous  stout  animal,  but  too  high  and  heavy  for  the  sand 
roads.  The  gray. is  a  little  too  showy  for  a  scout  that  ought  to 
love  the  shade  better  than  the  sunshine.  I  reckon  I'll  resk  the 
bay.  He  ain't  too  heavy,  and  he  ain't  too  low.  He  has  legs 
enough  for  his  body,  and  his  body  looks  well  on  his  legs.  He'll 
do,  and  if  I  could  only  take  the  saddle  from  the  black  and  clap  it  on 
the  bay,  I'd  be  a  made  horseman.  It's  a  prime  English  saddle,  and 
1  reckon  the  holsters  don't  want  for  tilling.  It's  mighty  tempting, 
but " 

A  favorable  opportunity  for  making  a  movement  now  suggest 
ing  itself,  his  soliloquy  was  cut  short.  The  scout  had  his  e\  es 
all  around  him.  The  sentinel's  bark  was  toward  him,  and  he 
commenced  his  progress.  To  the  citizen,  uninformed  in  the  ar 
tifices  of  Indian  warfare,  the  mod';  of  operations  adopted  and 
pursued  by  our  scout,  would  have  been  one  of  curious  contem 
plation  :md  study.  It  is  probable  that  such  a  person,  though 
looking  directly  at  the  obj.-rt,  would  have  been  slow  to  discern 
its  movement-,  so  sly,  M>  unimposing,  so  shadowy  as  they  were. 
"\Vith  the  flexibility  of  a  snake  the  body  of  our  scout  seemed  to 
slide  away  almost  without  the  awisiaiirr  of  hands  and  feet.  No 
obvious  motion  betrayed  his  progress,  not  Hie  slightest  rustling 
in  the  gTMB,  i:»r  tbe  faintest  crumpling  of  the  withered  leaf  of 
the  previous  autumn.  His  escape  was  favored  by  the  gray  gar 
ments  which  he  wore,  which  mixed  readily  with  the  misty 
shadows  \>f  the  night  and  fore.-t.  Amid  their  curtaining  um 
brage  it  was  now  impossible  for  the  sentinel  to  perceive  him 


ira  ,    PLIGHT   r,\    NK.UT.  293 

While    pi.:  ,  ,1    behind 

the  encampment.  an«l    -M-nti;, 
ftih    which   he   had  lra\<  r-cd.        II 

. 

1'i-  •  '  nliulit    VTBfl    -liahd    !,ack    fn>m  nun?    th:.n 

p    and    morion,   which    betrayed    the  proximity  of  tin- 

kton.  and  Darcy.  and   tin-  iv<t  of  that 

1  nid  wh<.  ;  in  i,!,,,.d  along  MIC 

and    Saluda.       Mure    Mian    CHIC    <»f    the    MS-  the 

:f  had  falh-n    l.y   Micir   felon   hands.      \Vcll   ini-lif  .lack  I'.an: 

.  ••«!    Ihcni.      !l"\\-   ca.--y,    with 

their  «.wn  l»r.  at   little  li:i/anl  t«» 

ivd    lu-ck^    and    shoulders   spouting   with    their 

:   itural    to  tin-  man.  but    for  an   in-tatit   only. 
!    i!    with  a  -hu.ider;    and   turnini:  warily  in  an- 
f  diivcti,.!!.  he  i  to  put  in  execution  i 

tp,  fur  Mi--  pnr|»o-e  of  making 
•  hiin>elf.  .  'v  t,,  hi<  eiienii; 

::.ed    to   favor  him,   but    i  lore- 

;  <-a.uti(>n.      lie  j.rocetded  with  suMii -ient  p-ntleness.  and 

•re  di~;..r!  .UK  eamoiiL'  tlu-  animals  than  they  habitually 

H  -illation   into    their 

confirmed   the    judgment    which    ho    had 

while  watching  them  from  a  distance.    Tiu-  dark  bav 
and  lie  succeeded  with 
:.!nir    him    from  the  boii,i;h  to  which   lie 
aed, 

him    forth    from   the    -roiip.   -o  as    to    throw    tin 

miners    line  of   sight,  was  a  task  not 
much   Hi-ire    di!licii!i  ;  ami    but    little    n 

II  sc.-ut   to    lead  him  down  the  hilUidc  into  the 
-cs  of    the    bay,   in    the    -hade  of    which   he  could  mount   him 
without    exposure,    at:d    dart    of!    with    every    probability     of    , 

:ipt    to    p:-  .  iacitv 

i"     the    (  :     a     man     of     much    BXp 

which    i 


Til  i 

carried    by  tin-    Mack.     Dropping  the   bridle-  of   his    buy.    therefore 
over  a  slender  hickory  shoot,  in-  -  «o  the  group,  and  pro 

ceeded    to  strip   the   black   of  liis   app  I'm.   \\heiher  the 

animal  hud  sonic  suspicions  that  all  was  not  right  iii  this  n<xti. 
proceeding,  or  was  indignant  at  the  preference  which  the  scout  liad 
•i  in   favor  of  his  companion  over  himself,  it  i--  certain  that  he 
:itcd  tlie  liberties  taken  by  the  intruder  in  a  manner  that  th; 
ened  to  Ite  more  fatal   to  the  fugitive  than   all  the  pistols  of  the  en 
campment.     He  proceeded  by  kicking  and  biting  to  prove  his  jeal 
ousy  and  dislike,  and  this  so  effectually,  as  to  make  it  a  somewhat 
diilic-ult  matter  for  the  scout  to  ell'ect   his  extrication  from  the  group, 
all  of  whom  were  more  or  less  restiff ,  and  prepared  to  retort.  >. 
the  black  the  sundry  assaults  which,  in  his  random  fury,  lie  had  in- 
ilicted  upon  them. 

This  led  to  a  commotion  which  attracted  the  attention  of  the  senti 
nel  :  and  his  challenge,  and   evident   approach,  compelled   Hannister 
to  discard  his  caution  and  betake  himself  with  all  expedition  to  the 
steed  which  lie  had  captured.     He  darted   forward  accordingly,  and 
the  ;diarp  bam:  of  the  pistol  followed  his  appearance  en  the  back  of 
the  steed.     This,  though  it  awakened  only  the  merriment  of  the  : 
live,  aroused   the  whole  eneai:.;>ment.     There  was  no  time  for  i 
templation — none  for  the  expected  conference    with    the   landlord, 
liannister  knew  this.     He  cast   an   instinctive  uun.e  to  the   northern 
heavens,  as  if  seeking  for  their  guiding  star,  then   pricking  ' 
with    the    point    of   his   knr  :    away    with    a    hurry-scurry 

through  the  woods  that,  defied  their  intricacies,  at.d  seemed   to  1 
a!  the  vain  shout-  ami  clamor  of  the  lilac!;   Riders,  who  were  seeking 
•indue  to  order,  with  the   view   to  pursuit,  their  now  unmanage 
able  hor.-i 

The  circumstance  that  had    led  to   the   discovery   of    IJannisicr'- 
Hi-lit,    availed    somewhat    to   diminish    tiie    daiig«T*    of    the    <  ha-e. 

•  re    the    refractory   steeds   "i.uld    be    quieted,   and   tin-  dr.r. 
on   the    track   of    his  llight,   the   tread  of   his  1).  l".-t 

entireh    t.)    their    hearing.       They    scattered    themselve-.     nev.  rthe- 
leflC,    aiiionu-   tiie    wood>,    but    \\erc   soon    recalled    froiii    a    pursuit 
which    promised    }o    be    fruitless  ;  while   P,;i:.nisier.  dr.-.wi:m-  u|>  his 
,1    uh,.,,    IK-    i,<>     longer     heard    the    (  lamor>     t>!     lii>    pui>u<  r< 


T1IK    81 

!  for  a  \\hile  to  deK  !i  the  cm   .  of  his 

arri\e  at 

more  tickling  his  lior>c'>  Hanks  with   the  point  ».f 
buried  h:  lit  in  the  d  of  the 


OHAPTBB   XXVI, 

BHADOWfl    AM.   STRAWS    rr«>\    Tin:   SURFACE. 

.!  a!   the  Middleton  barony  \\.-i 

aim;  ln;t   not  its  iiMial  calm.      It  I, ail   i:«.\v   other  tenants 
than     thox,-    ^  hose    quulity     aii'i     KX      had    maintained 

•-\illi   its  purity.     The  chief  of  the   ouila\\>.  atieiid<'d  . 
faithful  adh.reiil.     \VaN«,n   G  -lill   it>  inina!- 

r,     in    the    pei-M.n    Oi 

;!it,    to     \\li.-m     I!a\vdon     hud    -;\(ii     the     woumlcd 
man  in  rha:  I  ntleman\\a-  nam«  d   HiUinuiM-.      He 

•Mjft    in    liis   prof.-ion.      II.-    could    take   off   a    lei; 
twinkling  of  an   eye;    l»ui    lie    wn    one    ,if   that  unfortunate 
;iart     you-  g    \\lio  aim    at    universal    <•!«••. 

MO     .l.jiet    tOO   liiirh    for   hi-   ambition,    and.    unhappily. 
•..      He  philo>ophi/ed  \\heii   philo-ophy  \va<  on  the  tapis, 
and 

"  Hear  him  hut  n-ns<,n  in  divin.' 

you   \voul!    have   fancied   the    liriti-h   camp    \\a>   the   verv    h' 

:id    th«-  a  :ient   of  the 

l'io\  idem  .        He     talked     po(lr\      1  iy     the     . 
If     on     the     e.|Ual     ta»tr     \\ith    which      : 

tin-    ami:  i 

. 
and    to    s< c    him    in    this    JH  i  f"!  i.iai,' 

niahd.      ii  truly 

rful.      Armed    \\ith   the  ihicad    in   one   hand,    and 


Till-     SCOTT. 

the  needle  in  tin-  other— his  lips  working  the  while  with  singular 
ii:defatigablen<  ss— his  left  foot  firmly  planted  in  the  foreground. 
his  right  thown  bark,  and  p.>i<ed  upon  the  toe;  —  and  he  laughed 
to  scorn  the  ditliculty  which  the  doubtful  eye  of  the  needle 
seemed  to  oll'cr  to  his  own.  I  Us  genius,  though  universal. 
lay  eminently  this  way.  He  had  the  most  m:ir\  icoty 

of  finger  in  threading  needles  that  ever  w;i-  POSM-.-MM!  by  mortal. 
rnhapi»ily,  he-  was  not  satisfied  with  a  distinrt-ion  so  notable. 
He  was  a  universal  genius,  and  aimed  at  all  BOrta  of  distinction. 
He  would  discourse  of  war,  and  mameuvre  armies,  so  te  to 
confound  Hannibal  and  circumvent  Sripio  ;  and,  while  in-i- 
upon  his  paramount  excellence  US  a  surgeon,  was  yet  perpetually 
deploring  that  sacrifice  of  his  better  uses  and  endowments, 
which  the  profession  required  him  to  make.  ('(.mention 
had  done  something  toward  other  developments  and  de-ires  of 
our  subject.  He  was  a  gallant,  no  less  than  a  genius  was 
ambitious  of  the  reputation  of  a  r<»/<\  and,  according  to  his  own 
account,  had  achieved  -oine  of  the  most  wonderful  conquests 
among  the  sex.  in  spite  of  the  mo-:  eminent  rivals.  His  eomplai- 
ance  was  prodigious,  in  ivepect  to  the  tender  gender;  and  when  he 
considered  how  hopeless  it  was,  in  one  man,  to  attejnpt  to  render 
all  happy,  he  deplored  the  fate  which  had  mudcftim  irresistible,  and 
regretted  that  but  a  single  life  was  allowed  to  execute  all  the 
desires  even  of  universal  genius.  How  he  pitied  the  fair,  frail 
rvnturrs  who  \\ere  eomp"llcd  to  hunger  hopelessly.  lie  \\ould 
willingly  have  had  himself  cut  up  in  little  for  their  sakes.  could  the 
ubiquitous  attributes  of  his  mind  have  availed  for  the  several  Bttb 
divisions  of  his  body  ;  but .  as  this  could  not  well  be  done,  he  could 
only  sigh  for  their  privations. 

Fancy,  with  such  complaisance,  the  person  of  the  uglic-t 
"Great  head"  in  existence  —  a  man,  with  a  short  neck,  head 
round  as  a  bullet,  eyes  lik,  and  a  DO8C  us  sharp  as  a 

penknife;  a  mouth  which  could  hold  a  pippin,  ami  was  constantly 
',11  the  stretch  ;i-  if  desiring  one.  Fancy,  yet  farther,  such  a 
>n  in  the  IIOIM-  with  a  woman  like  Flora  Middleton,  smirk 
ing  indulgently  upon  that  dam-el,  and  readily  mistaking  the 
cool  contempt  with  which  she  regarded  him.  MS  only  a  natural 
impiession  of  that  wonder  which  hi-  pretence  must  naturally 


in  a  country -girl  — and  it   will   ni.t   In-  diilicult   to  anticipate 
:tune  of    the   gallant    to   IK-    thrown    into   company    with    the 

maiden. 

.Mr.    Ilillhou-e    was    t»o    provident    of    time    in    all     mat!' 
suffer  any   of   his   talents    to    rem -.in   unemployed,    when   h- 

••    it.    otlu TV.  5-i .      Love-maki] 

•  t  with   liiiu  a  mar  •inu-n!. 

Be  bad  work.     It   was  -imply  as  au 

-.lent,    and    a.x    an     •  pli-hmeiits, 

:ided   to   smile  upon   the    Fair,  and    to   confer  those 

affections  which  he  otherwise  afTec  i.-ii.     lie  himself  had 

lions  —  perhnp*  lUCh  a  creature  never  1: 

in  that  earnestness  of    character    without    wl:i< -li    the    sciisihilities 
':ither    ilrui    sulxtanccs  —  the  which 

only  delude,   and  never  satisfy  the  '    the  mind.      He  had 

':  >ra    Middli-toii    l»cfon-    IP-    had    plan::, 
•.•iminiiii:   the    wounds    of    Morton,     in    connection 
v.'ith    l'.  mind,    and 

framing   tl:--  "r   that    salutation    vhieh    !  <•    wot    to    : 

on  th-  .lniur  lady.      It  many  hours 

after    ! .'  .rture,    l>cfore    he    commenced    hi- 

Tin     lin-akfa-t-'.al'le    \\  ,i>    »hc    BCCOe.      Mr-.    .M 'M'llrt,  ;ii.    ^vliom    the 

1    alann<   of   the   ni^ht    had 
and,  ].  ;    and    unhappy.  Flor:«    took    her   seat    at    the 

and      Mr.     llillh-.-.  red    at    the    tir-t 

summon-,    though    the     latter    di«l     n..t     MM-III     CO  that    the 

room    |  ed    with    any     «.tli.-r     presence    than    hi-    own,    and 

with    whom     1,  ended     to     <-. inverse.      V. 

1  •  u 1      "li-e,    -miled,    t,,.,U     liis    st-at.    al 

iir«d    of    PM    ;  .;.      Hut    the 

.'•heil  a   i>  -rioil    in   life,    when    it  him  a 

duty  to  di-plav  companions  of   hi-,  ability 

to  hri: 

floii  —  "  ^  •   m:-Ue 

and    .M  in    hi-   1 

inmeuled  on  lh-  l.y   the   remark  — 


TIII:  scour. 

only    thing    that    In-     can    not    help    doing."     Hut    neither 
served  to   restrain   a   vanity    whose    chullitions    were  habitual;    and 
the  youug  surgeon  began  to  prattle,  as  soon  as  tin-  l.< 
her  appearance.     The  events  of  the  night,  the  military   • 
of  the  da'.vn,  and  the  heauty  of  the  morn  which  succeeded,   fur 
nislied  him  with  ample  topics,     lie  was  in  hope  that  the  "spirit- 
stirring  drum  and  ear-piercing  tife,"  and  so  forth,  had  not  vexed  too 
greatly  the  slumbers  of  Miss  Middleton;  —  a  wish  that  the 

red  with  a  grave  nod,  and  an  assurance  which  lier 
countenance  belied,  that  she  never  felt  better  in  ail  her  life.  The 
weather,  the  never-failing  topic,  enabled  him  to  dilate  copiously 
from  the  poets  —  Milton  being  the  first  at  hand  —  with  an  almost 
literal  description. 

"  A  most  lovely  morning,  Mi-s  Middlcton  !  In  this  beautiful 
e  nmtry,  you  may  be  said  to  reali/.e  the  truth  of  Milton's  description 
of  another  region."  Hemming  thrice,  to  relieve  himself  from  an 
obstruction  in  the  throat  which  he  did  not  feel,  he  proceeded, 
:1  of  chant,  to  give  the  beautiful  address  i>f  Kve  to  Adam  — 
beginning  :  - 

"Sweet  is  the  lnvuth  <>!'  morn,  her  rising  sweet. 
With  charm  <>!'  earliest  birds."  ,V<-.,  \e. 

Hut  nothing  could  exceed  the  unction  of  his  look  and  gesture,  when, 
approaching  the  conclusion  of  the  pas-age,  he  b"t  rayed  by  his  look, 
tone,  and  action,  the  true  reason  why  the  selection  had  been 
made,  and  the  application  which  he  sought  to  give  to  its  closing 

sentence  •— 

"But  neither  breath  of  morn,  when  she  :i«-cnd8 
With  eharm  of  earliest  binis;  nor  rising  sun, 
On  this  (leiijj-lnl'ii!  la  ml ;  nor  herb,  t  ;•.•!•,  t  lower, 
(ili-ieniii'.':  witli  de\v;  imr  fr.-"Ti-;inee  after  showers  ; 
Nor  "TMteful  e\-eiiiiiir  mil  1 ;  nor  silent  ni-_rl)t 
NN'itli  this  hep  solemn  bird  :  nor  walk  by  moon 
Or  glittering  starlight,  u-itlmut  ///-• 

AVomen  very  SOOD  discern  when  they  ha\e  to  deal  with  a 
fool.  At  another  time,  and  under  other  circumstances,  Flora 
might  have  amused  herself  with  the  harmless  monster  ;  but  she 
forebore,  and  quietly  replied  : — 


SHADOW!  pox   TII  ' 

"In    tnr'  The    de- 

•  ;i«m  at  this  v,.a.on  of  the  day  and  year,  i-  very  correct, 
when  applied  I  intry.  One  would  aim 

that    Mi!'  thinking    of  us.     At    lea>t,    our 

6    liberty    of    applying    hi-    I 
,  d->  tell  nu-  how  your  patient  I».M 

This    was    all    said    with    tlic     most     indifferent,    matter-of-fact 
net    in    the    world.       Tin-    answer    to    the    inquiry    was   lost     in 
the    ;  d    knowledge    which    enveloped    it.       A    long   scien 

tific  f    wounds    in   general;    then 

followed   an    analysis  of  the   several    kinds   of   wounds  —  gun-shot, 
yonct,  hill,  bludgeon  —  wounds  in  the   head  and 
the  hip.  the  shoulder  and  the  leg.  the  neck  and  the  abdomen. 

•    of   al!    wounds,    Mix-    Middleton,    I   feel    at    this    11. 
more   than   over   convinced    that    the   most   fatal    are   those    which 
are  inflicted  upon  the  human  heart." 

This   Wtia    followed    l>y   a    glance   of  the   most  inimitable  tender- 

•••«!  upon  the  region,  the 
"f  whi«-h  were  alleged  tol.e  so  paramount. 

-  tid     the    young     lady,    with     becoming 
•  nlirmed    by    all    that    I    ever    heard   on   th.   subject. 
r.    who  is  an   excellent    judge  in  such  mat- 
:    one   time  the  only   butcher  in   Charl< 

;i    the    lieart    always,   in   prefer. 

to    •'.  -iiat    while   death    is    certain    to    follow 

hurt  in  the  one  region,  it  is  a  very  frequent  circumstance 
that  the  hardne—  of  the  other  renders  it  impenetrable  to  the 
bul]'  be  very  »od  and  the  distance 

•    tO    be    the    best     judge    of   tin 

:;ion." 

1  -iderable    elTort     to     suppress    the 

>age.       The  scout    p.  i 
the     latent    .sarcasm    in    the    reply    of    the 
was  innocent  of  any  unnecessary 
und'-rstandiiiL'.  with     pr 

•hat     her    *'m\ 
fatuity. 
"Veiily,"    he    thought    •  'hU   i-    a   !  •;    she 


300  THE    SCOUT. 

has  seen  nothing  of  the  world;  lived  always  in  a  state  of  pure 
simplicity;  totally  unsophisticated.  I  shall  have  but  little  trouble 
with  her." 

AVith  this  reflection   he  proceeded  with  great  dignity  to  ofTe; 
objections  to  the  opinion  of  the  overseer,  to  all  of  which  Flora  JUid- 
dleton  assented  with  the  air  of  one  who  is  anxious  to  get  rid  of  a 
wearisome  person  or  subject. 

But  the  surgeon  was  not  to  be  shaken  off  so  easily;  and 
question  which  she  found  it  necessary  to  propose,  however  sim 
ple  or  little  calculated  to  provoke  dilation,  only  had  tin-  el't'eet 
of  bringing  about  the  same  results.  The  same  jargon  tilled  her 
ears  —  the  same  inflated  style  of  compliment  olTended  her  taste 
and,  in  answer  to  the  third  or  fourth  inquiry  as  to  the  condition 
of  his  patient,  he  assured  her  that  "  Wounds  were  either  fatal 
or  they  were  not.  Death  might  follow  the  prick  of  a  needle 
while  a  man  has  been  known  1o  survive  even  a  puncture  of  the 
heart  itself;" — here  followed  another  significant  glance  at  the 
lady;— "but,  lie  continued,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  declares 
the  law,  ''while  there  is  life  there  is  hope.  Hope,  as  we  are 
told  by  our  little  poet  of  Twickenham,  '  hope  springs  eternal  in 
the  human  breast;'  and  the  last  person,  Miss  Middle-ton,  whom 
hope  should  ever  desert,  should  be  the  surgeon.  So  many  hav-- 
been  the  marvellous  cures  which  the  art  of  man  has  effected 
that  he  should  despair  of  nothing.  Nothing,  you  know,  is  im 
possible  with  Providence  —  perhaps  I  should  say  with  art;  for 
many  have  been  its  successes,  which  ignorance  has  falsely  and 
foolishly  attributed  to  miraculous  interposition.  Miracles.  Miss 
Middleton,  are  not  common  things.  I  am  of  opinion,  though  1 
would  not  have  you  suppose  me  skeptical  or  irreligious,  that  a 
great  many  events  are  represented  as  miraculous  which  owe 
their  occurrence  to  natural  and  ordinary  laws.  Then-  WM  an 
instance  —  it  came;  under  my  own  observation  in  the  island  of 

Jamaica " 

"Pardon  me.  sir,  if  you  please,  but  if  your  patient  can  i 
spare  your  presence,  mine  can  not.     I  am  to  understand  you.  Hi- 
of  opinion  thai  Mr.  Conway  CAD   only  survive  by  what    is  ordinarily 
considered  a  miracle;  but  which.  I   am  to  believe,  will  be  then  wholly 
a><  i  il)able  to  your  professional  skill?  " 


SHADOW  301 

"I   r.  M         Middleton,     said   \V:it«.n    (Jray,     ri  in-    from 

tin-    table  "  that  Mr.   Conwa\  -.MM!  cli 

.'•  uirly  cuts,   l.ui    lie    ha>n't  much 
'.   ami   1    don't    think   any   of  the  wounds  touch  the  vital   j.-. 

:    a  good   many    woise  hurts   in   my   tinu-,    and  though   Tin 
no  d  '     I    think    ht:'l!    get   over    it    liy   good     nur-in-_r  and 

watching." 

Mr.  IIillhou>e  wa^  greatly  confounded  by  this  interposition.     His 
rated   aa    Watson  (Jray  went  on,   and  he  permit 

ted    himself  to     exhibit     ju>t    sullicient   interest    in    the  interruption 

as  to    wheel    his    chair  half   round,  and  take  a  cool   contemptuous 

The  latter  did  not  wait  for  reply  or  refutation; 

and  the  simp!-  what    he  said    wail  suflioiently  conc-lu- 

me    t  -  Flora,  who  roxf.  al-o,  and — the   gentlemen    having  linMied 
kfast— prepared  to  leave  the  room.     lint  Mr.  Hillhouse  was  not 
willing  to   sulTer  this   movement.      lie    had   still    more    knowled^j- 
to  display. 

not    be  deceived   bythi->    pev-dii.   Mi--   Middleton  —  a    very 
D,  certainly,  not    waiitin.  ;tni>tion-  \n-r- 

I    Bhoold  tm    to    be  the  .f  whom  you  have. 

.'  -n." 

••  No.  sir;  I  only  know  hi-  ol  the  friends  .  .\ay." 

"Ah:  a   friend  of  Mr.  I'onu-ay --a  ver\  election.      There 

i^    nothinc    about    which     ^cntU-men   .-liould    lie   BO    careful    as   the 

«•!'  friends.     A  friend  is  a  man " 

;r.   -but  may  I  be- your  attention,  at   your  < 

ire,  in   the  chamber  of  the  yoang  woman?    Her  deliri  . 

It    will   trivc    me  pleasure  to  obey    \oiir    n-(|uisition>. 
in;  nut    let  me  warn  yT)ii  |       •  .      .        idgmenl 

the    Mibj"ct    of    Mr.    ConwajT*!    «,,iidilion,    from    the 

I    doubt   not    i 

lent    butcher.   Mi—  Midd!et<>n;   1ml.  Mirely  it  i-   c.bvious   in  you 
•irt    of    taking    life,  and    that    of    savin 

•  •uld  tell    very    nearly,    as  w<  U 

lid     be     l)eces<:iry     to     u-e      ill 

felling  a  bullock,  hut  the  ijur-stion  how  'o  brim:  the  same   bull... 
life  again " 


302  THE    SCOUT. 

"Is  surely  one  that  is  better  answered  by  yourself,  and  I  should 
consult  you,  sir,  were  it  ever  necessary,  in  preference  to  everybody 
else." 

The  surgeon  bowed  at  the  compliment,  and  with  undiminished 
earnestness,  and  more  directness  than  usual,  returned  to  his  subject,  if 
subject  he  may  have  said  to  have  who  amalgamated  all  subjec; 
happily  together. 

"  Mr.  Oonway,  Miss  Middleton,  is  not  so  bad  as  be  might  be, 
and  is  a  great  deal  worse,  I  am  disposed  to  think,  than  lie  wishes  him 
self  to  be.  His  wounds  are  not  deadly,  though  he  may  die  of  them; 
yet,  though  life  itself  be  but  a  jest.  I  must  consider  them  serious. 
This  overseer  of  yours  is  right  in  some  things;  though,  I  suspect, 
he  only  reports  my  own  remark*  to  Lord  llnwdon,  made  this  morn 
ing,  ere  his  lordship  took  his  departure.  I  told  his  lordship  that  I 
considered  the  case  doubtful,  as  all  maladies  must  be  considered: 
for  you  know  that  there  is  no  certainty  in  life,  hut.  death.  He  has 
fever,  and  that  is  unfavorable;  but  as  he  has  little  fever,  that  is 
favorable.  In  short,  if  he  does  not  suffer  a  great  change  for  the 
worse,  I  trust  that  he  will  get  better.  Xay,  I  may  admit  that  I 
have  hopes  of  it,  though  no  certainties  The  surgeon  who  sj 
of  certainties,  in  such  matters  i-  — pardon  me.  Miss  Middleton  — 
little  better  than  a  fool." 

"I  thank  you,  sir;  you  have  really  enlightened  me  on  many  sub 
jects.  I  am  very  mudi  obliged  to  you.  You  must  have  seen  a  great 
deal  of  the  world,  sir." 

This  was  said  with  an  air  of  very  great  simplicity.  It  completely 
deceived  the  complacent  surge. m. 

"The  world!   Miss  Middleton,  I  have   sounded  it   everywhere.     I 
have  basked  on  the  banks  of  the    Niger;  I  have  medita'ed  at  the  foot 
of  tin;  pyramids;  have  taken  my  chibouque  with  a  pacha,  and  eaten 
sandwiches    with    the    queen    of    Hungary.      I    have    travelled  far, 
toiled   much;  spent  five  years  in  India,   a<  many  in  th(*\Ve<t   li: 
two  in  South  Anvrica;  and    yet,  you    see  m--   In-re  in  Smith  ( 
lina,  still     nothing    more  than  second -s.irp-i.n  to  a   little     army  of 
iian  live    thousand     men,  commanded     by    a    general  who  — 
but  no  matter!     Lord   Hawdon  is  a  good  Mis,  Middleton  — 

U   ihe  world  goes — but,     burn    me!    a    very    poor  judge   of  good 
associates." 


MI  303 

••  V«  ;  very  early 

have  trai  ;eh." 

••  Apron  ri  ftened  into  "  maternal  ties,"  <lid  not  offend 

tlie  | 

••A  i,  .  M><  MM'.leton;   hut  it  is   surprising  lio\v  rap 

idly  a    per.-'ii    acquires   knowledge,  who   starts   early  in    pursuit 

veiling  itself  is  a  delight  —  a  great  delight  — 

it    would    do    y.ni    good    to    travel.       Perhaps,  were    you    to    go 

BAT,  you  \vouM    feel   less  surprised  at  the 

my  ;u-q' 

•'  1  '.,  do  you  really  think  .- 

••  1    lo  —  'pun  my  honor  I  do.      Your  plaee  here  is  a  very  fino 

Y..U   have,  1    understand,  some    ten  thousand  acres  in  this 

<  )ld    r.ar.-ny'  it's  called  —  slaves  in  sufficient  num- 

.  and    really  everything   remarkably  attra< 

and    ,  1  can  \ery  well   understand    how  it   is  that   you 

^hould  not  care  to  leave  it  even  fur  a  sea^m  :  out  if  you  only 
knew  what  a  joy  travelling  is  —  to  go  here  and  go  then  ---  W 
this  rhing  and  that  —  he  a.-kcd  to  tliistVte  and  that  palace  — 
and  know  that  the  wh<  lor  your  presence 

and  dependiiiL  :  •  nly  k:;- 

up  your  i    your  slave.-,  your   h;. 

rhink  them  all    flat,  stale,  and    Unprofitable  — 
you'd 


"  (  )]  .  me.      VMU  eloquent.      If   I   remain 

longer,  I    shall    he    jsersuaded  to  go  ;   and  I    must    . 

tin.      Good    morning,  sir.      I  trn>t  that  you  will  di  ••. 
«l  leisure  to  the  poor  young  woman." 

The  BUTgeon  hent  and  howeil  almost  to  the  ground,  while   ins 
hand  wa  -  to  his  lips  with  the  •  tpiisite  refinement 

1    that    perio.!.      'I'he  dandy  is  clearly  human 
All  ages  have  possessed  the  creature  U:P  '• 

lioman,   the    (ireek.    t!.e    Ivjypiian.    the    Ilelirew,   all    the 
i         !-h,  and  the  ]  '1  home  testimony 

In  tl,  iiaps,  there  i>  m*  dandy  hr.h 

in  h:  Cheroki  •  Nature  and  art 

ho'h  dec!  .       Ill  »hif 

point  of    vie.w    common  sense    can    ur^:  jecliomj    to 


$04  THE  SCOUT. 

He  clearly  lias  an  allotted  place  in  life  ;  and  like  the  wriggling 
worm  that  puts  on  a  purple  jacket  and  golden  wings,  though 
we  may  wonder  at  the  seeming  waste  of  so  much  wealth,  we 
can  not  deny  its  distribution,  and  must  suppose  that  the  insect 
has  its  uses,  however  unapparent.  The  exquisite  may  stand  in 
the  same  relation  to  the  human  species  as  the  jay  or  the  peacock 
among  the  birds.  These  teach  the  vanity  of  their  costume  while 
displaying  it :  as  the  man  of  sense  learns  to  avoid  the  folly, 
even  in  degree,  which  is  yet  the  glory  of  the  fool. 

"  Charming  creature  !"  exclaimed  the  dandy,  yaw.ning,  and 
throwing  himself  backward  on  the  cushions  of  the  huge  sofa, 
which  stood  temptingly  contiguous  —  "Charming  creature  !  She 
deserves  some  painstaking.  Her  person  is  not  fine,  but  her 
lands  are ;  her  beauties  are  few,  but  her  slaves  are  many.  She 
is  rather  simple,  perhaps ;  but,  gad,  my  soul !  ne  is  hard  indeed 
to  satisfy  whom  these  fine  grounds,  excellent  mansion,  good 
lands,  charming  groves,  and  balmy  atmosphere  would  not  recon 
cile  to  any  sacrifices.  We  must  make  it,  some  day  or  other,  all 
- ;  and  though,  Augustus  llillhouse,  be  them  not  too  nice ! 
Already  hast  them  suffered  many  a  choice  fleshly  dainty  to  slip 
through  thy  fingers  because  of  thy  fastidious  stomach.  Beware  ' 
Thou  art  wasting  time  which  is  precious.  Age  will  come  upon 
thee  !  Age  !  ah  !" — with  a  shiver  — "  it  will  need  fine  mansion, 
and  noble  park,  and  goodly  income,  to  reconcile  that  to  thy  phi 
losophy.  'In  the  days  of  thy  youth,'  saith  the  proverb.  1  will 
counsel  of  it  in  season.  The  damsel's  worth  some  pains 
taking,  and  the  sacrifice  is  not  without  its  reward.  But  such  a 
gown  and  stomacher  as  she  wears  !  I  must  amend  all  that, 
'{'here  is  also  an  absence  of  finish  in  the  manner,  which  too  de 
cidedly  betrays  the  rustic.  Her  voice,  too,  has  a  twang  —  a 
certain  peasant-like  sharpness,  which  grates  harshly  upon  the 

But  these  things  may  be  amended!  —  yes,  they  ma' 
amended.  I  must  amend  them,  certainly,  before  1  can  commit 
myself  among  my  friends;  for  what  would  Lady  Bell,  who  is  a 
belle  no  longer,  say  to  such  a  bodice,  such  :i  stomacher,  and, 
above  all,  to  a  carriage,  which  -hows  a  degree  of  vigor  so  utterly 
foreign  to  good  breeding.  I  must  teach  her  languor,  and  that 
mil  be  tho  worst  task  of  all/for  it  will  require  exertion,  She 


BHA1 

-nust    learn    to   lounge  with  with  a  faint-1 

IUMI    her   cvtv-  'it   them, 

when  sin  :D  let  lie.  tlpfl  of 

her  lips  as   if  .-he  were    striving   all    -  five 

them  in.     Ah,  c!.  '•  -11  !   BWC< 

1  thou,  de  ""Id 

:hi>  harony-g: 

v  inueh    lovelier  were  she  than  all  of  ye  !      Y<>  are, 
laud'.  —  ami    there!'- 

acre>  weigh  heavily  Rgainsl  your  charms.      Augustus  flilllr 

.,!i>h  in    thy  f.  x'1  th<-    fruits  wbicll  the 

.piarrel  not  with  the  in»uut\ 

•  •I' flu-  (00  much  red  upon  the.  apple.      It  ;.  the 

red  may  ho  reconcile. I,  in  tin.-  BCOming  <lol- 

'riie^lamly  ^oliln^ui/c.l    at  greater   len-lh,  hut  nei: 
phuism  nor  hia   philosophy  finds  much   favor  in  our  si-ht. 
are  not  of  that  cla^s  of  writers  who  delight  in    such  detail,  and 

hall   not,  accordingly — and  this  omission   may  surpri.-' 
fashionable    readei  —  furnish   the   usual    inventory    of  Mr.   Jlill- 
hou-  and  wardrohe.      Ki!..ngh   that   it  was   ample  , 

for  his  purposes,  and   enahled    him   to   provide  a  change,  and  a 
ditVereiit  color,  for  every  day  in  the  ir.<>nth.      1I--  had  his  purple 
and  'his  violet,  his  green  and  his  omhre,  the  01 
of  his  valor,  the  other  for   his   sentiment,  the   third  for  \>.\<  ' 
sadness,  and  the   fourth  for  his  feeling  of  univc'.vnl    melancholy. 
We  shall  only  say,  that  his  violet  was  worn  at  his  first  inter 
with  Flora  MMdK-' 

While  his   head   ran   upon    h  a<ure  which   he 

had  now  c.-rtainly  re.-dved   up<>n,  it  j>ied  with 

tain    incidental   and   equally  imjiortaiit    topics,  suvl 
which   should   be  worn    on   such   occasion  —  for  t! 
marriage  was  tin1  onlv  da}-  he   had    I 
and  the  sul.se, jiu-nt  d;-;  md,   chat; 

he  was  to  tal.  -\<m  of  with  his  wife.      Stretched 

upon  the  thrown  H\«T  an  an 

and  the  otln  ; 

pillows,  which    had   heen   drawn    from   1  this 

purpose — 1,1-  -hut   in   dronn.;  hil   lip' 


800  :•:   SCOUT. 

gently  moving  as  lie  whispered  over  the  several  heads  of  topic* 
•which  engaged  his  reflection  ;  ho  was  suddenly  aroused  by  hear 
ing  the  fall  of  a  light  footstep  behind  him.  At  first  he  fancied 
that  it  might  he  one  of  the  servants,  hut  a  negro  is  usually  a 
heavy-heeled  personage,  who  makes  his  importance  felt  upon 
*.he  floor,  if  nowhere  else  ;  and  when,  in  the  next  moment,  Mr 
Augustus  Hillht'ii-e  remembered  this  peculiarity  in  his  n.v 
he  fancied  that  the  intruder  could  he  n<>  other  than  the  fair  rus 
tic.  whose  acres  he  was  then  disposing  of  with  the  most  me; 
tile  facility.  Nothing  could  he  more  natural  than  that  she  should 
\ery  soon  iiiul  her  way  hack  to  the  spot  where  it  was  possiMe 
to  find  him. 

Under  this  impression,  he  started  to  his  feet  with  an  air  of 
well-practised  confusion;  and  having  heen  at  some  pains  t<» 
throw  into  his  countenance  an  excess  of  sweetness  and  sensibil- 
itv,  he  turned  his  eves,  as  he  fancied,  upon  the  fair  intruder,  t.i 
meet  —  not  the,  lady  of  his  h>ve,  nor  one  of  the  gentler  sex  at 
all  —  hut  a  man,  and  such  a  man  ! 

Never  was  creature  so  wofully  confounded  as  our  young  gal 
lant.  The  perron  who  encountered  his  glance,  though  hut  f<»i 
a. i  instant  onlv,  was  the  verv  picture  of  terror  —  gaunt  terror  — 
lean  misery,  dark  and  cold  ferocity.  Clothed  in  the  meanest 
homespun  of  the  country,  and  that  in  tatters,  the  tall,  skeleton 
form  of  a  man,  stood  in  the  doorway,  evidently  receding  from 
the  apartment.  In  his  eyes  there  was  the  expression  of  a 
vacant  anger  —  something  of  disappointment  and  dislike  —  a  look 
of  surprise,  and  dissatisfaction.  In  his  hand,  at  the  moment  of 
his  disappearance,  Mr.  llillhouse.  fancied  that  ho  saw  the  sudden 
shine,  of  steel.  But  he  was  so  completely  confounded  hy  the 
apparition  that  he  was  for  a  few  moments  utterly  incapable  of 
speech  ;  and  when  he  did  speak,  the  spectre  disappeared. 

""Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want?"  was  the  shivering 
inquiry  which  he  made.  A  savage  grin  was  the  only  answer  of 
the,  stranger,  and  the  next  instant  the  surgeon  stood  alone 

"The   devil,  to    he   sine!"  he,   exclaimed;   hut,  recovering  his 

coinage,  he,  darted  after  his  strange  visitor.      He  rushed  into  the 

\vay  —  out  into  the    porch  —  ran    -iown  the  steps,  looked 

«-t  into  the :  cotni —  hut    in  vain.      li>  .M-  nobody.      K\er 


ACE.        807 


,  he  km  • 

<!,dra\vn  ;    Mini    n<> 
than  a  lame  ;  «f  vision  that 

.\itliiuit.     Hi-  be  house,  more  than  erer  satii 

igit    !V"i:i  a  personage  whose 

intim.icv  iinj1'-!  and   other  COmbustlblofl  ;    and  a  sud 

den   resolution   t»  .'it   once   iut.-i  the 

condition  'i"in    he    liejran   to  think   he   had  too 

supernatural  visitation. 

his   rare  \\:i>   the    person  of  the  outlaw  — 

rior  claims,  or  worse  condition,  but  simply 
Stated  to  eiu-oiinter  the 

vmiu^  lady  in  wh'  il  was  nere.^arv  t»  {.r.-u-ti>e  that 

and  delii  .-ci-ion  nf  tone  and   manner,  lan^ua^e  and 

.  -.\liii-li  form  tl,<  —  (Mitials  of  smves^ful  -• 

ment,  in  all  ages,  \\lim  dealing  \\ith  the  sex.      Regarding  "W    • 
ninistance  in  a  lar^c  eollectioo  of  dejien- 

•'n^-})(«5nt,  a  mom/ 
.  -ii-d  relational,  —  Ju.  had 

i-xliiliitiiiL  I  Ql  in  his  j  :   and 

l:e  jioured  forth  to  the  co.,h'r  and  more  rational  scout  the  intelli- 
«»f  which  he  \ 

.    as   a    fool,  hut    had    n< 

sujiji^isc  that  In-  was  a  liar.      He  saw  m>  reason  to  doiiht  that  lu> 

had  v,  rind  concluded  that  his  alarm  had  s«>;newh:ir 

rora  of  what    he  -;iu.      15nt    his  n  of 

B    and    particnh»r, 

he  wcdl    knew  that    neither  the   fears   nor  the  follies  of  the 
led    hi>   invent!.  >.  i  of  it;    and,  with    graver 

louks  than    he   hi;  fiided   instantly  to 

the  lo\\  , 

There  he  found  the  sentinels,  each  r.t  and  thev 

from   tin  f,      'I'll'. 

tn  think  more    lightly  of  th=  .    hut 

fliei'  •:!!    soim-thin^    in    '  M    which    had    been 

:.  him  that  he  iVoiu  his  > 

searched  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  premises,  hut  with- 

inything   '  >ns,      ll> 


308  THE   SCOUT. 

nothir.g;  but  a  keen  watchful  eye  followed  'It in  progress,  ever, 
step  which  he  made,  along  the  avenue. 

The  father  of  Mary  Clarkson  had  survived  the  conflict  of  thf 
preceding  night.  It  was  his  spectre  which  had  so  fearfully 
alarmed  the  contemplative  surgeon.  lie  had  good  reason  foi 
his  alarm.  His  sudden  movement  alone,  which  enabled  the  vin 
dictive  old  man  to  discern  the  slight  popinjay  person  of  the  sur- 
.  saved  him  from  the  sharp  edge  of  the  uplifted  knife.  The 
ami  run  tic  clmw  of  the  woodman  —  an  instrument  not  unlike 
the  modern  bowie-knife  —  had,  at  one  moment,  nearly  finished 
the  daydreams  of  Mr.  Ilillhouse  and  his  life  together. 

Finding  nothing  in  his  search  like  the,  object  described,  Ww- 
son  Gray  was  disposed  to  think  that  the  surgeon  had  seen  one 
of  the  soldiers  on  duty,  who  had  probably  found  his  way  into 
the  mansion  with  the  view  of  employing  his  eyes  or  his  fin.. 

j'or  the  moral  sense  of  the  invading  army,  officers  and  soldiers, 

does  not  seem  to  have  been  very  high  ;  but  this  idea  was  com 
bated  by  the  fact  that   Ilillhouse    had   been    for    many  y 
himself,  ;:   member  of  the  British  army,  and  knew,  as  well  as 
anybody,  the  costume  of  its  several  commands.     The  nervous 
excitement  of  the  surgeon,  which  Avas  not  overcome  when  < . 
returned  to  the  chamber,  was  another  argument  against  this  no 
tion.     But   a  new  light  broke  in  upon  Watson  Gray  when  he 
remembered  the  ancient  superstition  along  the  Congarec. 

"  You've  seen  the  ghost  of  the  eassiqne,"  he  said,  with  a  con 
clusive  shake  of  the  head;  "old  Middleton  walks,  they  say 
I've  heard  it  a  hundred  times.  He  used  to  wear  homespun  and 
a  hunting-shirt — though  I  never  heard  it  was  ragged  —  and  the 
big  knife  and  rifle  were  never  out  of  his  handi-.  The  Congaree 
Indians  used  to  call  him  King  Big  Knife,  and,  sure  enough,  he 
made  it  work  among  the  red  skins  whenever  they  came  about 
hi.s  quarters  and  didn't  carry  themselves  rightly.  He  was  a 
m^t  famous  hunter  ;  and,  between  the  hears  and  the  savages, 
the  knife  and  rifle  had  very  little  rest  with  him.  I  reckon  it's 
him  you've  seen,  though  it's  something  strange  for  a  ghost  to 

alk  in  broad  daytime." 
The  8-urgeon  was  not  entirely  satisfied  with  this  explanation  ; 


8HAI;  u\    Till:    SUKPACB. 

:iable,  but  simply  because  it 
clashed  with  his  habitual  philosophy 

"Ah.  my   £oo<l   friend."  !;iimed   patronizingly,  "I  sec 

I  'ine  very  vulgar  errors.     The  belief  in  ghosts 

with.     Ghosts,  like  continental  money, 

their  val...  the   people   had   their   credulity. 

you  d.uibt,  the  ghoMs  disappear,  and  the  money  is 

;;t   •  mly  among  a  simple  people  and 

tll€    early  As    philo«iphv —  divine    not 

:;ill    fools   supp.-e —  u  philosophy   began  to  shed 

her  beauiN  UJK.U  'lie  world" &c. 

had  already  ceased  to  listen,  and  we  may  as 
well  follow  his  example.  Talking  still,  however,  while  working 
about  the  wounds  «f  \n<  patient,  the  surgeon  at  length  awakened 
nnother  \  1  the  faint,  but  coherent  words  of  the  outlaw. 

•. Mined  the  scout  to  his  bed-.; 
"  Where  .mi  I  ?  —  what  does  all  this  mean,  Gray?" 

SOU   interfered,  and   for   live   minutes   expatiated 
•'»  '-•'  langer  t-»  a  patient  situated  as  he  was,  in  using  his 

>wn.  'any  but  his  professional  attendant. 

:hing,  my  good  sir.  can  be  more  injurious  to  the   nervous 
em,  particularly  where  there  is  any  tendency  upward  —  any 
mounting  of  the  blood  to  the  brain!      I  have  known  numbe; 

re  the  results  have  been  fatal,  even  of  the  most 

Into:  Cation.     Once  in   India,  a  colonel   of  cavalry,  as 

I    ever   lived  —  Monckton  —  a  noble  fellow  — 

ed    like    a    prince  —  won    every   woman   he   looked   at,   and 

happy  in  never  being  made  to  marry  any  —  he  suffered  from 

I    pi-rate   charge  which  he  made  at 

h<lad   of  i  got,  upon  the  native  troops.     The  rajah 

il — and  my  poor  friend  Mnm-kton " 

feebly  exclaimed  the  outlaw,  but  with  an  emjJhasia 
;:nd  manrer  sufficiently  marked  to  be  offen 

"  Psh.-iw  !  p.xhaw  !  sir  —  do  you  mean  'pshaw!'  sir,  an  epithet 

of  contempt    or " 

'1  lie  wounded  n.,m  interrupted  him — 
'  Pftj  moment,  while    I 

•rhai.  my  friend  saj>.     Come  hither,  Gray." 


Tin:  SCOUT. 

"I  warn  you,  sir — I  wash  .my  hands  of  tin-  responsibility!' 
exclaimed  the  now  indignant  surgeon,  '  Pshaw!  pshaw!  audio 
me!  " 

"Gray,  can't  you  turn  that  fool  fellow  from  tin-  room?"  said 
Morton,  in  a  tone  which  was  only  i;;:ii;dible  to  Ilillhouse  from  the 
feebleness  of  the  speaker.  Hut  no  such  s'.eps  were  necessary.  The 
indignant  surgeon  availed  himself  of  the  moment  to  obey  the  requisi 
tion  of  Miss  Middleton,  and  visit  his  other  patient:  and  the  outlaw 
and  his  subordinate  wuv  left  undisturbed  to  a  long,  and,  to  them,  not 
an  uninteresting  conference. 

This  conference  had  relation  to  many  events  and  interests  which 
do  not  alTect  the  progress  of  this  narrative,  and  do  not   accordi: 
demand  our  attention;  but  we  may  add,  that  no  portion  of  the  intelli- 
•  which   Watson  Gray  brought  his  commander  was  of  half  the 
interest,  in  his  mind,  as  those  events  wliieh  we  have  prcviou-1. 
lated,  in  the  occurrences  of  Brier  Park,  after  the  moment  of  Kdward 
Morton's  insensibility. 

"That  1  live  ,-t  all  is  almost  miraculous,"  was  the  remark  of 
the  outlaw;  "lor  I  had  goaded  him  "  —  meaning  his  brother  - 
"almost  to  desperation,  and  when  my  hand  failed  me  I  looked  for 
death." 

••  lint  why  do  this?"  was  the  earnest  inquiry  <>f  Gray;  "why, 
when  so  much  wa*  at  stake?  I  thought  you  had  made  it  your  chief 
care,  and  believed  it  your  correct  policy,  particularly  as  eonce!  us  Mi- 
Flora,  to  keep  him  in  the  dark.  Why  tell  him  ail  — why  goad  him 
with  this  knowledge?  " 

it  was   mv  policy,  and   ><»  1   had  iv>olved;   but  the  devil  and 
my   own    pa-ions  drove  me  to  it ;  and  v,»me   other   feeling.^  wliieh   1 
could  not  well  account  for.     Hate,  hate,  hale!    was  at    the  bottom  of 
all,  and  1  suppose  I  needed  blood  letting." 
••  Y..II  have  had  it  —enough  of  it." 

"^y.  but  I  live  in  spite  of  it,  Watson  Gray,  and  1  feel  that  I 
shall  still  live.  I  shall  not  die  thN  bout  —  not  while  1  am  here 
—  here  in  the  same  house  with  /» r.  and  while  all  things  I, 
are,  as  you  tell  me,  ripe  and  favorable.  This  alone  is  enough 
to  cure  wounds  thrive  as  numerous  and  thrice  a*  deep  as  mine.  I 
am  here  with  her.  and  let  me  but  use  these  limbs  once  more,  and 
the  victory  and  the  pri/.e  are  mine.  1  will  wear  them,  \Y 


\i>  STJLI 

.  with  a  y   \\hieh  -hall    lind   triunii.h    in    a    thc.i: 

feeling    which    confer    anything    but    Joy, 

diall    know    what    it     is    to    have    felt    with    feeling   radl 
mine." 

outlaw     sank      backward    from    exhaustion,     and     V. 
found    it    neee-sary    to    en!  the    sur- 

!:IMHI    the   speaker   that    restraint    which    his 

W8al  -i-d  to  b,-  more  th:i:  ..     Thi-  w:(- a  dilli- 

eu.lt    ta>k  ,    the  outlaw    beinj:    impatient    to    he.nr    particulars,   and 
ililatc  upon  hopes  and  pas-ions,  which  filled  all  the  secret  avem; 
-.•ul  with  joy  !     It  wax  only  by  warnin.ir  him  of  the  dai; 

viTythin.ir  by  taskin.i:   his  ]io\\cr-  prematurely,  that  he 
i  :cd  to  silence  :  Init  l»is  lips  still  worked  with  hi<  d 
and    while      he     lay     with     shut     eyes    upon    his     couch,    alnio-t 
fainting     with     exhau-tion,     his     heart     h--aved     with     the     exult- 
in. i:      imaires      which      fancy     had      already      array«-d     bef<.re     his 
mind,    in    preparin  eniplated   triumph.     That  triumph  in 

cluded   i:  Ion  of   Flc.ra   Middleton,  and   his  escape  with  her. 

ami  «.th«-r  trea-ure-.  only  less  valuables   in    his  own   estimation,  and 
r  value  in    that  of    his   confederate.     Aln-ady    he   was 
I   in   tin-    \Ve*t    Indian    Mands  ;  of  Teat 

from  the  and  of  ti.  on  of  those  eh 

which  had  equally  warmed  his  mind  and  hi-  pa  —  i 

slept  ;  and  \VaNon   (Iray  availed    himself  of  hi-  ,  h  a 

biief  hour  of  oblivion  from  tne  same  auspicious  iiillueiice. 


THE    SCOTT. 


('  II  APT  Mil     \   XVII. 

CTILT,     AND    ITS    VICTIM. 

THE  course  of  the  surgeon,  when  lie  left  the  chamber  of  the  out 
law,  was  taken,  as  we  have  seeu,  to  the  apartment  of  his  other 
patient.  The  indignation  which  he  felt  at  the  conduct  of  .Mor 
ton,  in  rejecting,  in  terms  of  such  contempt,  his  counsel  to  silence  ; 
expedited  his  movements,  and,  muttering  while  he  went,  the  di- 
comtiture  which  lie  felt,  lie  found  himself  in  the  presence  of 
Miss  Middleton  before  he  had  entirely  smoothed  his  milled  front 
for  such  a  meeting.  Hut  Mr.  Hillhousc  prided  himself  on  his 
eadoo  of  all  tho>e  nice  requisites  which  coi^titute,  jxir  excel 
lence,  the  essentials  of  ladies-men.  Among  these  nay  be 
rockoued  a  countenance  \\hich  no  unruly  pa>-ions  could  ever 
decompose.  He  started,  with  an  air  of  studied,  theatrical  modeMy. 
when,  at  the  entrance  of  the  chamber,  he  saw  the  young 
la,lv  t  _  passed  his  kerchief  once  over  his  face,  and  the  magic 
consequences  of  such  a  proceeding,  'were  instantly  apparent. 
The  wrinkles  and  frowns  had  all  disappeared,  and  sweet  senti 
ment  and  deliberate  love  alone  appeared  upon  that  territory 
which  they  had  unbecomingly  usurped.  The  surgeon  approached 
trippingly,  and  in  a  half  whisper  to  Flora,  communicated  his 

apoloj 

••  I  Mil!  tremble.  Miss  Middleton,  for  I  had  almost  ventured  into 
your  pres<  nee  with  -in  angry  visage.  The  truth  is,  I  am  sometimes 
eptible  of  anger.  My  patient  in  the  opposite  apartment  pTOVei  to 
be  unruly.  He  ha-  annoy.  «1  me.  He  rejects  good  counsel,  and  he 
who  rejects  counsel  need  not  take  physic.  Coun-el.  Mi>s  Middl 
\\n<  beer,  happily  designated  the  physic  of  the  soul,  and  should  ne\er 

jectcd  —  " 

perhap-,  when  given  as  physic,  sir  ;  —but  will  you  look 
at  this  p;.or  young  woman.  I  am  afraid  you  can  do  but  little  for  her. 
She  gro\\  very  moment." 


GUILT,    A  N  "    tT8    vi<  TI  M. 

A  hem1— The  limit   to    human   art    has    not    yet   been    1 
Middleton.     The    patient   has    frequently    1  .<d    fr<>m 

the    very    lin_:c!^   of    death.      My    own    ,M;< 

been  nunuTou.s  and  remarkable.  I  rciiirinbcr  once  in 
Ceylon.  >ometime  in  the  autumn  of  177'J,  I  had  a  COM  "f  lliis 
very  sort,  and  a  younir  woman  too.  E  'ured  her  skull  by 

falling    from    a   window,    in    an   effort    to   reach     her    lover, 
affair  OQ  BOt     a    linl-  D    at    the    time.     Ti. 

. -thiiiLT    more    than    respectable  on    all  4    an    un- 

;'ierable    aversion    to    her    lover    which    her    father    entertained 
threatened    to    defeat     their   de-ires.       You     need    not     be    told.     ' 
Middleton,    that    where  a    yonn-r    woman    lOYefi,    -In-    will 
thin.  "f   her   attachment.      1!>  -rthy 

of  Iier.  He  was  an  Irishman,  his  name  Macartney  —  and  cer 
tainly,  for  that  day,  hail  tin-  mci-t  inimitable  1aMe  in  the  ar 
rangement  of  his  cravat,  of  any  man  I  ever  knew.  He  could 
make  a  pendant  to  it,  a  sort  of  //./'//'  GOT  .  hich  I  would 

defy    the    prettiest    tin.irers    in     the    world     to    unravel.      The    knot 

aivd    like  a   ball,  a  single   irlohe.  from  which  hung  tWO  lap- 
beinir  tin-  open  ends  of  the  kerchief.     S  ular  iiiLre- 

nuity,  he  would  alter    the  det  to  leave  but  one  lappet,  and 

then.it    mi^ht    be  liken.  wilh  a  tail       su«  h  1 

•   'is.  in  ITU'.i.      I  doubt  if  you  were  then  quite  old  cn-Mi-h  to 
have  8660  that  comet,  but  you  may  have  heard   of  ii.      It   had  a  I 
prodi-ious   tail— fully  sixt\  1.  n.-rth.  as  emnpi;-. 

It  WU  w:  .ountin.ir  to    losl 

that   I'lura    .Middleton    lixti-m-d    to  tin-    >\\i\'i    of    the  voluble  exqi: 

]M.ured   fortli    all    the  while  that  he   pursued    his   examination   into 

the     hurts    ,,|     his  pati«-nt.       [1  1      -hoi-kin^    that    one    eould 
\    at    MK-h   a    momen:.  ..M   ar.y   Mil.ject    but  Midi    . 

-ltd    j>erf,  |  la»k    in    hail.!                       '     he 

sliould   enlar-e  on  -ucli  wretched  follies,  \\itli   -o  much  sufferiii: 

her  -till    1ll"!'e  !H!    HlUiaf- 

ural. 

It    will   1..-    remem'HMvd    .1,1     |-'i..r:l    Middleton    I  untry- 

^irl,    to    whom    t!i  Miploynu nts   of    th' 

tional    worlil    of    fa-hi-n.    W< 


814  THK    SCCfiT 

> 

from  books  ,  mid  if  she  heard  anything  of  suck  .'xtravagaucie* 
in  thorn,  they  were  very  likely  to  ho  thrown  hy,  as  too  silly  foi 
perusal,  and  too  idle  for  holief.  The  plaintive  moans  and  oe 
casional  ejaculations  of  the  poor  girl  offered  the  only  intori'-p- 
tion  to  the  garrulity  of  the  surgeon,  but  did  not  seem  to  awaken 
any  fooling.  lie  commented  on  this  Insensibility,  by  a  quota 
tion  from  Shakspoare,  which  served  for  the  time  to  divert 
entirely  from  the  subject. 

"  '  II.iw  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  man  !  1  do  believe,  M  '.-- 
Middloton,  though  I  should  think  just  as  much  of  her  as  1  vfon> 
and  feel  just  as  desirous  of  doing  her  a  service,  that  I  could 
take  off  the  leg  of  my  grandmother  with  as  much  composure  and 
indifference,  as  perform  on  the  most  indiiV-M-ent  sp-angcr.  Did 
you  ever  have  a  tooth  drawn,  Miss  Mi'Mieton  /" 

He  urged  this  question  with  great  gravity,  btt  did  not  wait 
eor  the  answer. 

"A  painful  operation  to  the  patient,  decidedly,  and  the  only 
surgical  operation  which  I  have  any  reluctance  to  perform,  M  v 
objertkn  arose  from  a  very  rational  circumstance.  When  in 
m>  tP.r;iis.  and  a  student  —  a  time  as  3-011  perceive  not  very 
remote,  Miss  Biiddleton,  though  my  worldly  experience  lias  been 
80  extensive  ami  so  rapid  —  I  was  called  upon  to  extract  a  tooth 
from  the  mouth  of  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  s->,^5n^ 
master  in  Bath.  She  was  very  nervous,  and  gave  me  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  to  get  her  to  submit.  But  I  had  scarcely  got 
my  finger  into  her  mouth  —  being  about  to  use  the  lancet  - 
when  —  look  what  a  mark  !''  —  showing  his  finger — ''  it  will  last 
me  to  my  grave,  and,  as  you  so;-,  disfigures  terribly  the  entire 
member!  —  She  closed  her  jaw  upon  me,  and  —  ah!  I  feel  the 
thrll  of  horror  even  now,  whkh  seemed  to  run  through  my 
whole,  system.  Nay,  by  my  faith,  would  you  think  it —  not 
content  with  taking  hold,  she  seemed  no  way  disposed  to  let  go 
;i;:aiu,  and  it  was  only  by  main  force  that  tihe  was  persuaded  to 
Meet  that  my  finger  had  no  real  or  natural  connection  with 
her  incisors.  Young  ladies  are  said  to  keep  pmses^ior  of  their 
favorites  with  a  tenacity  peculiar  to  themselves,  but  a  i.io.lo  like 
bia,  Miss  MidtUetnn,  you  will  readily  admit,  was  neither  loving 


QUILT,  ii.M. 

As  she  looked  a;.  toibear  the 

exclamation  of  "i.  "   while  tin-  reflection  wliich  hai 

occurred  to  every  mind  which    1  rved   and   thought. 

sug-  _r  identity  which  exists  between  the 

Minis  and   euld    nature,  and   that   in   which    levity 
semis  a  leading  characteristic.      The   extremes  inevitably  : 
Tlie  hear  can  dance,  and   the  monkey,  which  is  one  of  the  I 

ive,  it'  not  the  most  formidable,  is  one  of  the  most  malignant 
.e  wild  tribes  of  t!  A  frivolous  people  is  apt  : 

md   the  i.  fate   Indian  warriors  p 

the  looking-gUuM  worn  about  their  necks  to  any  other  ornament. 

While  the  sin  L  prating  in  this  fashion,  he  • 

ing  -  m  the   poor  girl  whose   hurts  he  examined  without 

iii-  to   he   conscious  of  the  pain   he  gave;  and  the  ii. 
which  he  mination   as  that  which  had  so  much 

.c«l  iVnin  the  jaws  of  the  lady  of  Hath  was  stained  with  the 
9OH  hues   from  the  fractured    skull  which    he    had  been  feel- 
Mr.  HUlhonse  was  coiihidcrcd  a  good  surgeon  in  the  Urit  • 
:iny  ;   and,  it  may  be,  tl  nt  the  very  ealh»Mty  which  shucked 
M.ilities  of  Flora   Middleton.  w..uld   not   only  commei.d 
him  to  the  rough  soldier,  who  acquires  IVoin  his  daily  practice  a:i 
habitual  sc..rn  of  the  m  :ing  humanities,  but  was,  indeed. 

•ing   an   excellent   operator.      His  skill,  how- 
*  vail   nothing  in  behalf  of  his  female  patient  ; 
Alien,  at    length,  after  a  thousand    ej  Flora  obtained 

from   him   his   final  opinion,  though   it  said  nothing,  it  signified 
much. 

The  mournful  presentiments  of  t:  :rl,  expressed  to  her 

yer   but  ft,  promised   to  reali/ed. 

Hrr   wounds,  mental    and    bodily,  were   mortal.      Her  min-i 

.     11.  i    :  The   seat  of  n 

u.-u;j  and   delirium    raved  with    unabashed 

front  and   unabashed    j  the    abandoned   empn 

thought.      Wild    and  wretched  were    the    strange  and  incoherent 

Of  whirh    fell  :    lips.      > 

childliooil,  now  of   her  father;   and  when  k«  of  him,  hei 

eyes  would  u:  J   a  hasty  ^Ift] 

few  momenta  around   the  chaml  .  ting  the  ga/e  ot'    1 


516  THE 

Middleton,  they  would  suddenly  turn  aside,  jr  fold  themselves 
up  again,  as  if  anxious  to  exclude  a  painful  object  from  their 
survey. 

But  there  was  one  name  which,  like  the  keynote  in  an  elab 
orate  strain  of  artificial  music,  sounded  ever  prcclusive  to  the 
rest;  and  the  keen  ear  of  Flora  heard  with  surprise4  tin'  ireijue!;, 
iteration,  in  tones  of  the  most  touching  tenderness  and  entreat v. 
of  the  name  of  Edward.  Never  once  did  the  listener  conjecture 
to  whom  this  name  applied.  It  was  the  name  of  the  father, 
perhaps  the  brother,  the  dear  friend;  but  never  once  did 
fancy  the  true  relation  which  made  it  dear,  and  fatal  as  it  was 
dear,  to  the  unhappy  victim.  Could  ohe  have  guessed  the  truth 
—  could  she  have  drt-amed,  or  in  any  way  been  led  to  a  presci 
ence  of  the  truth  —  how  would  that  suffering,  but  proud  heart, 
have  melted  at  the  stern  cruelty  which  its  injustice  was  mo 
mently  doing  to  the  faithful  but  absent  lover  !  Her  meditations 
were  those  of  the  unsophisticated  and  pure-souled  woman. 

"  1  will  not  let  her  suffer,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  while  she 
sat  beside  the  dying  creature.  "  1  will  not  let  her  suffer,  though, 
poor  victim,  she  little  fancies  how  much  suffering  her  pres 
brings  to  me.  tier  miserable  fall,  and  wretched  fortunes,  shall 
not  make  her  hateful  in  my  sight.  God  keep  me  from  such 
cruel  feelings,  and  strengthen  me  against  temptation.  Let  me 
treat  her  kindly,  and  not  remember  to  her  detriment  that  Clar 
ence  Conway  has  been  her  destroyer.  0,  Clarence,  Clarence ! 
You,  of  whom  I  thought  such  pure  and  noble  thoughts  —  you, 
who  seemed  to  me  so  like  a  man  in  excellence  —  as  man  was 
when  he  spoke  unabashed  in  the  presence  of  the  angels — how 
could  you  stoop  to  this  baseness,  and  riot  on  the  poor  victim, 
abusing  the  fond  attachment  which  proved  her  only  weakness, 
and  which,  5u  I  lie  eye,  of  him  she  loved,  should  have  been  lie; 
chief  security  and  strength." 

Had  Flora  3Ii<idleton  lived  more  in  the  world,  and  in  tl  e 
great  cities  thereof,  she  might  have  been  less  severe  in  examin 
ing  the  supposed  conduct  of  her  lover.  Her  soliloquy  might 
have  been  softened,  as  she  reflected  upon  the  numbers  among 
her  sex,  vicious  and  artful,  who  save  the  betrayer  some  of  his 
toils,  and  are  caught  a'-i'icnines  in  their  artifices;  but  of  thi* 


,     -          norm.  .';i' 

class  ol   |  !,e  had  n<»  knowledge,  and  did  not  even  con- 

i 'eture  their  existence,     She  took   it  for  granted  that  Clarence 

the   one  who  was  v  holly   guilty  —  his   victim 
>nly  weak  through  the  strength  of  IKT  attachment.     Th< 
:f  her  own   regards  for  her  lover  enahled  her  to  form  a  corrci: 

cf  that   overpowering  measure   wliieli   liad   been   the    : 
-  destruction;   and  thinking  thus,  she  had  no  indulgence  foi 
,  whom  she  regarded  as  one  recklessly,  ai.d  without  qu 
cation,  wicked. 

But  the  truth  '»,  even   Kdward   Morton,  tlie  real  wrouj 

not,  in   this  case,  deserved   entirely  this  reproach.     There 
some,  truth  in  the  sarcasm  which   he  uttered  to  Mary  CMark- 
•••n,  when  he  told  her  that  her  own  vanity  had  had  considerable 
part  in  her  overthrow.     She  felt  the  partial  truth  ^f  the  a»rusa- 
and  her  own  reproaches  followed  on  her  lips.     It  would  he 
g  injustice  to  the  outlaw,  were  we  to  describe  him  as  indif 
ferent  to  her  situation.     There  was  still  something  human  in  his 
nature  —  some   portion   of  his   heart   not  utterly  os.Mfied    l>y  the 

U  which    ,»roved    its  chief  characteristic.      lit   the 
and  i  -rsation  which   followed,  between   him   and  his 

confidante  in  his  chamber  after  the  exclusion  of  th-  he 

had  asked  and  received  all  the  information  which  could  l,e,  given 
on  the  subject  of  the  events  which   had   i  v  Clark- 

victim  to  a  like  misfortune,  and   in  consequence  of  the  same  cir 
cumstances,  with  himself.     He  did   not  know- the  fact,  nor  could 

m   him,  that   she   receive'!    her  hurt.- 

,«f  tin-  leehle  attempt  which  slic  made  to  c«'nv  to  his  relief. 
all  the  circuiii-taniT.-,  led  to  this  convict!-. n,  ami  ^!,rii  i: 

ed  the  ground  over  which  he  had  g<-ne,  and  her  um 
ing  deVOtedllOSfl  through    tJje    h.ng  and  perilous  period, 
and    danger,  which    had    marked    lii^ 

red    how  many  had    hecn    her    B*crifi< 
her    faith  —  the    only   one    true,  amid    the    n*iny    : 
douhtful,  an<l  only  seemed  hy  purchase;  —  w! 
of  r.houglu  r-minded  him   that,  for  all   th' 

and   DO    li«'.  0,  fron 

alonr  lied,  and  who   inonoj.oli/ed,  without    km- 

to  film-,  all   the  h>\  e  of  \vi 


318  TMI-:  B<  OUT. 

possibly  for  the  in  his   life,  that  the   cold   and  keen  re 

proaches  of  remorse  touched  1: 

"I  have  done  the  poor  creature  wrong— I  ..  d  her 

as  she   deserve.     See   to   her,  Gray,  for  God's   sake,  and  let  not 
that   fool  of   a    surgeon,    if  he    can    do    anything 
forts.     If  she  survives   I   will  make   amends    to   her.     I    will    treat 
her  more  kindly;  for  never  has  poor  creatu;  re  faithful; 

and  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  she  mu.st  have  been  hurt  i;: 
idle  attempt  to  come  to  my  succor.      You  say  you   found  her  on 
the  same  spot  ?  " 

"Very  nearly." 

"Surely,    Clarence     C'onway    could     not    have    drawn    weapon 
upon  her  ! " 

"You  forget.     She  was  diessed  in  men's  clothes,  and  in  the  dark 
ness  of  the  evening." 

"Yes,  yes — but  still  a  mere  boy  in  appearance,  and  there 
never  was  a  brighter  moonlight.  Nobody  would  have  used  deadly 
weapon  upon  one  "whose  form  was  so  diminutive  and  evidently 
feeble.  She  was.  sick,  too — she  told  me  so;  but  I  had  heard  her 
Complain  SO  often,  that  I  gave  her  no  credit  far  sincerity,;!' 
her  back  to  watch  those  d — d  plotting  scoundrels  in  the  swamp. 
Would  the  fiends  had  them  !" 

W--  nerd  not  pursue  this  dialogue  farther.  .The  exhaustion 
of  the  outlaw  left  him  temporarily  oblivious  on  the  subject  «f 
the  girl;  but,  towards  cvenim.'-,  Parting  up  from  a  brief  uneasy 
slumber,  his  first  inquiry  was  into  her  condition.  When  told  that 
her  skull  was  fractured,  that  she  w;is  raging  with  fever  and  de 
lirium,  the  outlaw  sank  baek,  shut  his  eyes,  and,  th"uirh 
lay  in  a  rigid  silence,  which  sin > wed  the  still  •;<••'  Mce  of 

better   feelings  of    which    it  was  his   misfortune    !•>  i 
but  few,  and    those    loo    fVebli;  for  etlieieiit  and   beneficial   service. 

their  effect,  may    i  :    from   the 

the  means    wnployc'l   by    Wat  divert   his  min-; 

the    gloomy    jit    into    which     i  1    1'>    have    fallen.       That 

vicious    ndhrrei"  the    inonvnt  to  inform  him  of  th> 

he  had   taken   to   lay  th«-  ne  her  i; 

of    ri::rencr     (onwav,    and    to    COOVey    this    impre--.;: m     to    Flora 
MMdlolo;j.     The    exultation  of  a    selfish    hope    came  in    to 


r,c  virii.M 

.mil  the  outla 
Till;.: 

'ca    that,  ami    it    can  do  ]">(>r  Mary  no  harm  now; 
•    h-oks  Flora    since    >he    heard    it?      Have  y»u  stM-n  her 

••Yes:   .she  looks  twice   as   tall,  and    ten   times   as   haughty  M 

"  l-'l'-ra  Middletou  to  the  life  !      The  Semiramis  or  Xenohin  ot 
As    proud    as    either    of  those    dark,    downing 
antiquity.       She    fancied    that    you   were    pitying    her 
win  Turned   upon    her   face,  and  after  that  her 

t  was  to  make  herself  semi  as  insensihle   and   indi tier- 
she    never  had  a  heart.      Ah  !   Gray,  my  ^ood  fellow, 
«•    Rawdon    is   compelled    to 
not  carry  the  proud   damsel  oil'  from  all 

of  them,   i  all    futur  as  well   as  all  the 

pro!'  part.      Keep    that    f.-.l    fellow  of  a   snrireon    from 

pro!  '  imply  that  he  may  use   his   instrument  aihl  tin. 

and    let    him   only   do  what    you    th:  '.      I 

can't  well   helievc  t|jat    such    a    <  that    can 

,  >ly    he,  of    anv    D  ,  t    to    wind    silk,    or    tend    upon 

and  would    sooner   have    yuur   doctoring   than    that    of 
•vhole  tri!  y  limhs  a.irain,  and  the  rcsl 

What  wa*    that    re.-t  .'      What  \\  <  hopes   which 

such    a    tone    of   exultation    to    the   voice    and    lan^rua^e    of   the 
wounded    man  .'      We    Deed    QOl    anticipate.      The    conjecti; 
onl\  .      What  should   t!  :'rin«:in«:   in  such  a  rank 

and  horn  of  such  seed  as   hi>  criminal   hands    had    planted  ] 
k,  deep,  and  reckless,  was  the  determination  of  his  - 
wily,  in  the  highest  dr.  :.  derate  to  whose  aid   in 

•ut'n»n  w.-i  .'vt   this   moment 

it  need  only  he  said  that,  in   the   mind  of  the  conspirators,  noth- 
.    to    LMlle    their   desires   hut    the   condition  of  their 
:.      All    tiling-  •.      '!'!:«•    foriu:ie    they    impl 

the    liend    they   served,   the    appetite    which    prompted,  ami    the 

i  \  it nt.  \\  ere  all    i; 

ho,  of  all.  \\  |  hv  tlieii  —he 

Well  mi^l.i   he  , 


320  THE   SCOUT. 

the  folly  which  had  brought  him  to  his  present  state,  r.nd  de 
nounce  the  feebleness  which  delayed  the  last  and  crowning 
ach;evenient  on  which  his  hopes  and  desires  were  now  set.  His 
soul  chafed  with  impatience.  He  had  no  re-sources  from  thought 
and  contemplation.  He  could  curse,  but  he  could  not  pray  ; 
and  curses,  as  the  Arabian  proverb  truly  describes  them,  are  like 
chickens,  that  invariably  come  home  to  roost.  They  brought 
IK  it  her  peace  nor  profit  to  the  sick  bed  of  the  invalid,  and  the} 
kept  refreshing  slumbers  from  his  pillow. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

PHILOSOPHICAL    DOUBTS    AND    INQUIRIES. 

angry  feelings  which  the  conduct  of  the  outlaw  had 
produced  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Surgeon  Hjllhouse,  had  driven, 
for  the  time,  another  affair  from  his  recollection  about  which  he 
was  particularly  desirous  to  speak  with  Miss  Middleton  or  hei 
grandmother.  A  ramble  in  the  woods  that  same  morning  en 
abled  him  to  recover  his  temper  and,  with  it,  his  recollection  ; 
and  when  the  dinner  things  were  removed  that  day,  he  fairly 
conducted  the  old  lady  to  the  sofa,  placed  himself  beside  her, 
and  with  looks  big  with  the  sagacious  thought,  and  busy  spec 
ulation,  he  propounded  himself  as  follows  in  a  language  some 
what  new  to  him,  of  sententious  inquiry. 

".Mrs.  Middleton  —  madam  —  pray  oblige  me  by  letting  me 
know  what  sort  of  a  looking  person  was  your  grandfather!" 

•'My  grandfather,  sir — my  grandfather!" 

•'  Yes,  madam,  your  grandfather  —  how  did  lie  look  —  how 
did  he  dress  —  was  he  tall  «r  short  —  stout  «>r  slender.  Did  he 
wear  breeches  of  blue  homespun,  a  tattered  hunting  shirt  of  the 
same  color  and  bluff;  and  was  his  cuutniu.  Jc  C/IUM  as  long  af 
my  arm  ?" 

•  My  giandfather,  sir  !      Why,  sir,  what  do  you  mean?" 


pun, 

harm,  no   ofi'ence,  It-!!. 

contrary,  my    ipu'.siimi   is   prompted    liy    p'av>  and    dif 

ficulties,  and.  possibly,  dangers!      No   idle   or  impertinent    curi 

ng   it.      Philosophy   is   seri";;  '_  in   your 


"My  grandfather,  sir  —  why  In-  has  :  :   these  hundred 

I  do  not  think  I  •  ••.  ••:   saw  him." 
•    I  >ead  a  hundred  years  !      Impossible  !      Kh  !      HM\V  can  that 

demanded  tin-  surgeon  In  astonishment  scarcely  less  than 
that  which  the  old  lady  hcr>elf  had  manifested  at  the  beginning, 
—  "dead  a  hundred  \  Really,  Mrs.  Middleton  —  there 

l.c  some  mistake." 

>ir  —  then  it  is  yours,  not  mine.  My  grandfather 
has  hern  dead  mure  than  a  hundred  years,  lie  died  in  France 
somewhere  in  1GSO  —  or  '81  -  " 

"Oh  he  died  in  France,  did  he?  You  arc  right,  ma-lam,  there 
is  a  mistake,  and  it  is  mine.  To  he  sure  it  was  not  y<>ur  grand- 
lather  —  if  he  died  in  France  —  about  whom  1  wished  t«»  k:. 

•  —  it  was  .17-     Mi    .'  •  in'a  graudfath* 

••.My  hii>haii  the  "Id  lady  bridling  with  dij 

while   her   keen   uray  oyea    ilashed  with  all   the  vivarity  of  girl- 
"iijectured  the  utterance  <>j  .-icnt 

fV-»m  her  companion.     Tin-  ra  ll  his  dilemma. 

a-   hu.-haiid,    ^ir.-.    Middleton,"  he   stammered  —  "Can  it 

be?  Mi>s  Middleti'ji's  grandfather  your  In-.- 

1  why  not,  sii  honor  to  be  her  grand 

mother  r 

"True,  true,  most  true,  madam,  hut  -  " 

41  It  ihtcs  not  alter  the  IMM'  very  materially,  sir,  so   far 

me  intere.-tc  '!.      y«mr  right  is  j  :  I  •   inquire   into   the 

private  history  of  A^r  grandfaUx  mine,     1'r. 

•u  think,  so    much    dej»  M   it 

tired  country  people,  it  is  tine,  Mr.  Milllmuse  -  " 
"  llillhouse,  madam  —  AnuuMi;-  Hilllu.use,  of  his  majesty'.-  — 
'  r..;don    me,   sir  —  Mr.  Ilillh-.u-e  —  I  '     ;  '  ;-     abonl    to 

em---'  i  that,  though 

retireii    and    ra  >till    not    utterly    .  .    the 

banks    of  the    (_'<>.  the    rlaima   of  philosophy.      I    trust 


822  THE  SCOUT. 

to  see  tier  schools  established  here  before  1  .lie,*  and  may,  pon 
nibly,  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  you,  yourself,  expounding 
from  one  or  other  of  her  sacred  chairs." 

The  surgeon  bowed  low  at  the  unexpected  compliment  with 
out  perceiving  the  smile  of  irony  by  which  it  was  accompanied. 

"Ah,  madam,  you  do  me  too  much  honor.  I  am  but  poorly 
fitted  for  the  high  station  which  you  speak  of.  It  is  true,  I  am 
not  indifferently  read  ;  I  have  seen  the  world  —  a  fair  proportion 
of  it  at  least  ;  and  am  considered  very  generally  as  a  man  fond 
of  serious  and  severe  investigations  in  the  kindred  temples  of 
science  and  of  nature,  but " 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt  that  you  will  do  well  in  any 
of  the  departments,  and  if  ever  we  should  be  so  fortunate  as  to 
obtain  our  liberties  again,  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  thought 
of  for  some  such  situation." 

"  Ahem  !  —  ahem  !     Liberties  !  —  ah  !  —  ahem  ! " 

The  termination  of  the  sentence,  which  intimated  a  hope  of 
British  expulsion,  was  scarcely  palatable  to  the  surgeon. 

"But,  sir,  on  the  subject  of  Miss  Middlemen's  grandfather  — 
my  husband  —  the  late  General  Middleton  —  what  would  you 
please  to  know  ?" 

"Ahem  —  why,  madam,  the  case  presents  itself  in  an  aspect 
of  increased  difliculty.  I  had  somehow  confused  it  at  first,  and 
fancied  when  I  spoke  that  ]  was  addressing  you  <m  the  subject 
jf  a  very  ancient  relation.  The  connection  being  so  close " 

"  Makes  no  sort  of  difference,  sir,  if  your  question  conveys 
nothing  disrespectful." 

The  reply  of  the  old  lady  bewildered  the  surgeon  yet  further. 
lie  was  not  sure  that  something  disrespectful  might  not  be 
veyed  to  a  very  sensitive  and  jealous  mind,  in  any  loim  ol  the 
question,  which  was  to  solve  his  difficulties.  In  this  state  of  be 
wilderment,  with  something  of  desperation  in  his  air,  he  ]  ro- 
posed  another  inquiry,  seemingly  so  foreign  to  the  previous  topic 

*  A  hope  which  the  veneral-le  lady  in  question  lived  to  realize.  The  Collegf 
•f  South  Carolina,  at  Columbia,  has  1-eeri  Ion  - -<\i\  oj.rnition.  ami  l:ai 

the  good  fortune  to  have  sent  forth  some  of  i  -     ..»i:irs  and  aMest  states 

men  in  the    Union.      lu   im  i  ~jierit\   induces    the  confidei  : 

iLftt  it  will  long  continue  a  <   .  •  inurh  usefulness  Hnd  i;ood. — 


PHILOXH'HIC.U.    t>0  :IE8. 

that    Mrs.    Middleton    began    to    tliink    liiin    insane    as    well    HI 
-illy." 

"  Mrs.  lOddletOH,  do  you  believe  in  ghosts  t" 
••(Jh.-sts,  sir!  —  a  very  singular  (question." 
"  I'-'  .  madam,  but  it  is  a  part  of  the  subject." 

"  Indeed,  sir!" 

.  ma'am,  and   I   should  be   really  very  grateful  if  \... 
1  say  whether  you  do  or  do  not  believe   in   that    supcrnatu 
™1  !  rtral  visitation — that  independent  emho.ii. 

incut,  iu  shape   of  limbs.  sinews  and  substance,  of  tbe   immortal 
> — which  is  vulgarly  entitled  an  apparition,  or  ghost  ?     Pro. 
'iially,  madam,  as  a  surgeon,  I'm  not  prepared  to  look  fur- 
•hor  than  the  physical  organization  for  the  governing  powers  of 
fhe  human  form.    A  soul  is  a  something  that  has  eluded  hit! 
all  the   search   of  the   anatomist,  and   the   only  authority  which 
:  such  an  agent,  seems  to  me  to  be  derived  from  testi 
monials,  more  or  less  authenticated,  of  the   presence   and    i 
pearance  of  those  whom  we  have  considered  dead,  and  no  longer 

nd   purposes,  the  feelings  and  the  de.- 

of  ordinary  life.      Now,  madam,  something   of  mv    fn>t    inquiry 
depends  upon  my  la-t.     Pray  oblige  me,  then,  by  saying  whether 
r  do  not  believe  in  this  marvellous  anomaly.     Do  you 
believe  in  ghosts  «»r  not  .'" 

41  Well,  sir,  to  oblige  you.  though    I   am  at  a  loss  to  see  the 

connection  between  the  one  question  and  the  other " 

••  It's  there  —  there  is  a  connection,  believe  me." 

"  Well,  sir,  under  your  assurance,  or  without  it,  1  can  have  no 

-ay   that    I    am    very   doubtful   what   to   believe  on 

sueh  a  Mibject.      So  much    has   been    said  on  both  sides  —  and  I 

have   heard    M    many   wonderful    stories  about  such  things,  fmm 

>  of  Mich  excellent  credit,  that " 

:gh.  madam  ;    1  .   are   not   altogether   in 

credulous      Now  tell   me,  madam,  did  you  ever  yourself  see  a 
ghost  ?" 

sir." 

•Never! — nor  any   thing,  shape,  substance,  or   person,  that 
"d  like  one.  or  looked  like  n,, thing  else  but  one,  or  (hat 
you   bad    reason   to   MtppQAQ  WM   One,  01  that  WOmbled  any  de 


324  •"*«:  SCOUT. 

parted  friend,  relative,  tie,  connection,  dependence  —  in  short, 
did  you  never  see  anything  that  a  suspicious  mind  might  not 
have  readily  taken  for  a  ghost  ?" 

"  Never,  sir,  to  my  recollection." 

"  Well,  madam."  continued  the  surgeon,  taking  courage  from 
•>wn  motion,  "on  your  answer  will  depend  the  very  impor 
tant  doubt  whether  I,  Augustus  Ilillhouse,  second  surgeon  in  his 
majesty's  S7th  regiment  of  foot,  have  not  been  favored  by  the 
visitation  of  the  late  General  Middleton " 

"  Sir!"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  rising  with  a  most  queenly  air 
of  dignity  and  pride. 

"  Yes,  madam,  that's  it !"  replied  the  surgeon,  rising  also,  and 
rubbing  his  hands  together  earnestly.  "Here,  while  I  lay  on 
this  very  sofa,  tin's  very  morning,  after  the  breakfast  was  over, 
and  Alias  Middleton  had  gone — here,  alone,  I  was  favored  by 
the  sudden  presence  of  one  who  might  have  risen  from  the  floor, 
and,  as  far  as  I  could  see,  sunk  into  it;  who  might  have  been, 
nay,  as  I  have  heard,  must  have  been;  —  but  on  this  head  1 
would  have  your  testimony,  and  for  this  reason  did  1  desire 
to  learn  from  you  in  what  costume  it  was  usually  the  cus 
tom  for  General  Middleton  to  appear?  Oblige  me,  my  dear 
madam,  by  a  clear  and  particular  description  of  his  dress,  his 
weapons,  his  height,  breadth,  general  appearance,  the  length  of 
his  nose,  and  of  his  hunting-knife " 

"  Sir,  this  freedom  —  this  scandalous  freedom  !"  exclaimed  the 
venerable  matron. 

"Do  not  be  offended,  Mrs.  Middleton.  I  am  governed,  my 
dear  madam,  by  no  motives  but  those  of  the  philosopher.  I 
would  thank  yon,  then " 

"  Sir,  I  must  leave  you.  You  trespass,  sir,  beyond  your  priv 
ilege.  The  subject  is  a  sacred  one  with  the  widow.  Let  mo 
hear  no  more  of  it." 

"  But,  my  dear  madam  —  one  question  only  :  —  was  he  a  tall 
person,  slender,  rather  scant  of  frame  —  such  a  person  as  is  vul 
garly  called  raw-boned " 

"  No  more,  Mr.  Ilillhouse,  if  you  please." 
"  But  his  dress,  madam  —  and  his  nose." 
44  Good  morning,  sir  ' 


norms  AND  INQUIRIES.  325 

44  His  knife —  was  it  b-ng,  very  long —  long  as  my  am 
Tin-   matron    ':  retiring,  with  a  stern  glance 

of  her  gray  eye,  which  would  have  confounded  an}'  person  hut 
one  so  thoroughly  absorbed  in  his  philosophical  follies  as  to  be 
•ittei'y  incapable  of  observation.  II«'  pursued  her  to  tin-  foot  of 
the  stairs  with  a  decree  of  impetuous  eagerness,  which  almost 
made  the  old  lady  fancy  that  he  purposely  sought  to  offend  and 
annoy  her — a  conjecture  which  hy  no  moans  served  to  le  — m 
the  hauteur  of  her  retiring  movements. 

"  Hut,  my  dear  madam,  one  won!  only"  —  implored  the  sur- 

D  in  an  agony  of  entreaty  —  "touching  his  costume  ;   (inly  say 

wl, .-thcr  it  was   of  hlue   hoinespnn,  rather  lightish  in  line  ;   were 

his  smallclothes   rather   scantish,  and   of  the  same  color ;  —  and 

his  hunting  frock  —  was  it  not   a  little   tattered   and   torn   about 

the  skirt-,  and  on  the  shoulder?  —  and 

I,  uiitl  rnnkctj  no  sign  !'  " 

the  sad  ((notation  from  Shakspore,  with  which  be  concluded 
and  which  fitly  described  the  inflexible  silence  in  which  the 
matron  effected  her  departure. 

"  P'-vilish  strange  animal  is  woman  !  Here  now  is  a  question 
materially  affecting  the  great e.-t  mystery  in  onr  spiritual  nature  ; 
which  a  w.rd  of  that  old  lady  might  enable  me  to  solve,  and  she 
will  not  speak  that  word.  And  why?  Clearly,  she  was  quite 
as  anxious  for  the  truth,  at  the  beginning,  as  I  was  myself.  Hut 
the  that  her  pride  stood  in  the  w-y.  Pride  is  half  the 

in  favor  of  philosophy.      Had   her  husband,  instead   of  ap- 
ng  in  the  ordinary  guise  d'one  of  the  natives — which  must 
DO    (  to    be    a    very    wretched    taste  —  but    put    scarlet 

tin  rc!;<-  on  his  gho.st,  the  old  woman  would  have  been  willing 
to  acknowledge  him.  Hat  she  was  ashamed  of  a  ghost  —  even 
though  it  were  her  own  husband  —  who  should  reappear  in  dingv 
blue  homespun.  And  she  was  right.  What  ghost  could  l,..j.«- 
to  find  faith,  or  respect,  wh"  paid  so  little  attention  to  his  personal 
appearance  ?  It  M6IDI  to  m.-,  if  1  should  ever  have  anv  d. 
to 'revisit  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 'and  the  favor  were  afforded 
me,  I  should  be  at  (juite  as  much  trouble  in  making  up  my  toilet 
as  I  am  now;  nay,  more,  for  the  task  would  IK;  accompanied 
by  increased  diiiiculty.  The  complexion  of  a  ghost  would  ro 


826  THE   BCOUT. 

quire  a  very  nice  selection  of  shades  iu  costume.  Whether  111^ 
violet  would  not  be  the  most  suitable  1  TCeally,  the  question  in 
creases  in  interest.  I  shall  certainly  study  it  carefully.  The 
delicacy  of  the  violet  is  an  argument  in  its  favor,  but  some  def 
erence  must  be  shown  to  the  universal  judgment  of  ages,  which 
represents  ghosts  as  commonly  appearing  in  white.  To  this,  the 
case  of  Hamlet's  father  and  General  Middleton  furnish  the  only 
exceptions  that  I  remember.  How  then  should  a  ghost  be  hab 
ited?  How  should  /  be  habited,  appearing  as  a  ghost?  The 
query  is  one  of  delicate  interest.  I  must  consult  with  myself, 
my  pocket  mirror,  and  the  lovely  Flora  Middleton !" 

This  dialogue,  and  these  grave  reflections,  resulted  in  the 
temporary  exhaustion  of  the  surgeon.  He  yawned  listlessly, 
and  once  more  threw  himself  upon  the  sofa  where  he  had  been 
favored  with  his  ghostly  visitation ;  but,  on  this  occasion,  he 
took  special  care  that  his  face  should  front  the  entrance.  HI- re 
he  surrendered  himself  for  a  while  to  those  dreaming  fancies 
with  which  the  self-complacent  are  fortunately  enabled  to  recom 
pense  themselves  for  the  absence  of  better  company ;  and  pas 
sing,  with  the  rapidity  of  insect  nature,  from  flower  to  flower, 
his  mind  soon  lost,  in  the  hues  which  it  borrowed  as  it  went, 
every  trace  of  that  subject  to  which  it  had  been  seemingly 
devoted  with  so  much  earnestness. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Middleton  joined  her  grand-daughter  in  the 
chamber  of  poor  Mary  Clarkson.  It  needed  not  the  verdict  of 
the  surgeon  to  declare  that  she  must  die  ;  and  all  his  professional 
jargon  could  not  have  persuaded  the  spectator,  who  gazed  up«>n 
her  pale  and  wretched  features,  to  believe  that  she  could  by  any 
possibility  survive.  The  eternal  iiut  had  gone  forth.  The  mes 
senger  of  mercy — for  such,  happily,  was  the  angel  of  death  to 
her — was  on  his  way.  She  might  sink  in  a  few  hours,  she 
might  live  as  many  days,  but  she  was  evidently  dying.  JJut 
there  was  a  strange  life  and  brightness  in  her  eyes.  The  vital 
ity  of  her  glance  was  heightened  by  delirium  into  intense  spiritu 
ality.  She  keenly  surveyed  the  persons  in  attendance  with  a 
jealous  and  suspicious  glance,  the  cause  of  which  they  could 
only  ascribe  to  the  mind's  wandering.  Her  eyes  turned  evei 
from  them  to  the  entrance  of  the  apartment;  and  once,  when 


PHli,  ID   i\gt:iaiB8. 

'•  to  place  an  additional    pillow  beneath  hef 

i    hand   comu:  ;:il    murmured  with 

tlir  ;  

"Take  liini   not  i'roin  me —  not  yet —  not  till  I  am  dead,  and 
in  the  odd,  cold  -rav»-  !      Why  will  you  take  him  from  me?     1 
M  did  you  harm  !" 

y  much  .-hocked.  Flora  shuddered,  but  replied  — 

;  oU.  my  p. ,or  girl  /  —  what  would  you  have 
me  d 

••  (  )t'   wh.'in  .'  —  of    him!      Surely    y..u    know/  —  of  Conwav  ! 
Take   him    not    from    me  —  not  —  not    till    I    am    in    the   gr, 
Then  —  oh  then  !  —  it  will  not  need  then  :      No  !    ; 

'I''"'  inten  ate  was  brief,  but  how  painful  to  the  listen 

ing  maiden  ! 

r  nothing!"  said   Flora,  somewhat  proudly.     "  God  for 
bid  that   I  should  rob  you  of  any  of  your  rights." 

!    but  you  can  not  help  it! — you  can  not  help  it  !"  cried 

lofferer,      "I    know  — I    know  what    it    is   to    love  — and    to 

Miller  lor  it  !      Hut,  will   you   not   let   me  see  him  —  let  me  go  to 

him — or  bid   them  brin-   him    here  to  me  !      lean   not  die  till  I 

have  seen  him  !" 

"That  can  not  be.  my  poor  -ir!  ;    he  is  not  here.      He  is  gone. 
I  tni-t  that  (;..d  will  enable  you  to  live  to  see  hi: 

"He  is  gone!     ftm  mean  that  1  1]     Hal  — can  it  be 

that.'      1  did   not    come   in   time!      I    saw  them   light!      I  heard 
them  swear  and   strike  — hard  — heavy  blows,  with  .sharp  >teel  ! 
Oh,  Cod!    that    brothers   should    light,  and    B6ek  to 
other!       I  called  to  them  to  Mop;    but   1  saw  their  heavv  h! 
and  when    I    ran    to    part    them— 1    iell,  and   Mich  a  pain  !      .M  v 

I"""'  head  !       He   killed    us    both  —  the  cruel  brother! he 

killed  us  bnth  with  h:>  II.MVV  bl<> 

:  make  younelf  i 

with    this    mistake.       llelieve    \\hat     I    tell    you.       Mr.    (Ma: 

ii  in  no  danger]  he  escaped     The  only  i 

Edward  ('  .'.ho  is  hurt.     He  li,->  in  the  - 

The   WOldfl  of  the  >peal.  ,  ,f  t],n 

i    maniac.      SuccesMVe    screams   of  a 

i  .-motion  —  a  something  of  delight  and  agony  in  'he  utter- 


328  THE   SCOUT. 

ance  —  followed  the  communication  of  Flora  Middleton,  and  were 
followed  by  a  desperate  effort  of  the  poor  girl  to  rise  from  the 
bed  and  rush  from  the  apartment.  It  required  all  the  strength 
of  an  able-bodied  female  slave,  who  watched  with  her  young 
mistress  in  the  apartment,  to  keep  her  in  the  bed ;  and  the  re 
straint  to  which  she  was  subjected  only  served  to  increase  her 
madness,  and  render  her  screams  more  piercing  and  intolerable 
than  ever.  Her  wild,  anguished  words  filled  the  intenals 
between  each  successive  scream.  But  these  were  no  longer 
coherent.  When  she  became  quieted  at  length,  it  was  only 
through  the  exhaustion  of  all  the  strength  which  .sustained  her 
during  the  paroxysm.  Strong  aromatics  and  strengthening 
liquors  were  employed  to  restore  her  to  consciousness;  and  the 
scientific  exquisite  from  below,  startled  from  his  dreaming  mood 
by  the  summons  of  the  servant,  was  sufficiently  impressed  by 
the  painful  character  of  the  spectacle  he  witnessed,  to  apply 
himself  in  earnest  to  the  task  of  restoring  her,  without  offending 
the  good  taste  of  the  ladies  by  the  exercise  of  his  customary 
garrulity.  She  was  brought  back  to  life,  and  the  keen  scrutiny 
of  Flora  Middleton  discovered,  as  she  fancied,  that  her  senses 
were  also  restored. 

There  was  an  air  of  cunning  in  the  occasionally  upturned 
glance  of  her  half-shut  eye,  which  forced  this  conviction  upon 
the  spectator.  When  Flora  changed  her  position,  the  eye  of 
the  sufferer  followed  her  movements  with  an  expression  of  curi 
osity,  which  is  one  of  the  most  natural  forms  of  intelliiM'me. 
She  had  also  become,  on  a  sudden,  excessively  watchful.  1C  very 
sound  that  was  heard  from  without  aroused  her  regards;  and, 
when  she  saw  that  she  was  noticed  by  those  around  her,  her 
own  glance  was  suddenly  averted  from  the  observer,  with  au 
air  of  natural  confusion. 

These  were  signs  that  warned  Flora  of  the  necessity  of  giving 
her  *he  most  patient  and  scrupulous  attention.  It  was  obvious 
to  all  that  she  could  not  survive  that  night.  The  surgeon,  rub 
bing  his  hands  at  nightfall,  gave  his  ultimatum  to  this  effect ; 
and  yielded  up  his  charge  as  hopeless  ;  and  the  gloomy  feelings 
of  Flora  Middleton  were  somewhat  modified  when  she  reflected 
that  death  could  not  possibly  be  a  misfortune  to  one  to  whom 


TH:  XD.  329 

lifo   seemed   to    have    1  onie   only  th<  «>f  in,.,,ixed  evil 

What  should  >ho  live  for  ?  More  neglect  —  more  shame  —  more 
sorrow  !  —  the  Mow  that  forces  the  victim  to  the  dust,  and  mocks 
at  his  writhings  ihere.  Mary  Clnrkson  had  surely  endured 
enough  of  this  already.  It  could  not  he  the  prayer  of  friendship 
which  would  desire  her  to  live  only  for  its  sad  continuance;  and 
to  live  at  all,  must  be,  in  the  case  of  that  hapless  creatui 
incur  this  agoni/.ing  penalty.  But  Flora  Middlcton  could  still 
p:ay  t'-r  the  victim.  Forgiveness  might  he  won  for  her  errors, 
and.  Miivls-,  when-  the  penalties  of  folly  and  of  sin  are  already 
.vat  in  life,  the  mercy  of  Heaven  will  not  be  too  rigorously 
withhold.  This  was  her  hope,  and  it  may  well  be  ours. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

THK    AVE.XUER    BAFFLED. 

THE  screams  of  the  maddened  victim  of  his  lust  and  selfish- 

,  had   reached  the  ears  of  Edward  Morton  in  his  chamber. 

They  had  startled  him  from  slumbers,  which  no  doubt,  had  their 

images  of  terror,  such  as  thronged  about  the  couch  of  Richard, 

and    *at    heavy   upon    his    soul.     The   piercing    agony   of  those 

shrieks    mn>t    have    strangely    tallied    with    his    dreams,   for   he 

d    in  h!>  couch,  his  BJOfl  wild    and   staring,  his 

broken,  thick,  and    incoherent. 

Unit,  Watson  (iray,  who  had  bei-n    a   faithful  watcher 
1«  h>  r.'uch,  ran  to  him,  and  pressed  him  gently  back  ujmn 
(he  pillows,  n>ing  such  Ian-  jicied   might    ^<.othe   t-, 

'juiet   h:>  iicrvdis  exritat'mn  ;    but,  a<  the  shrirks  were  continued, 
and    set-moil    to    acquire    greater    vi>lumo    with    each    I 
utterance,   th-  -till    an    inlhience,    boy«»nd    his    j 

the    guilty   and  wounded    man   in   a 
agitation. 

"  \Vhai   mean   the>e  hid  r  -Ml">« 

•  •if  in   my  chamber  before  they  began  ?      Did 
Ihe.y  take  nobody  in-nce  —  ip-w,  now  — but  now  /" 


830  sco  in. 

"No!   you  li;,  In-Mining  only.      YOU  are  fe\  eri.sh.      I5o 

quiet — on  your  keeping  quiet  depends  everything." 

"  So  it  does ;  but  can't  you  silence  those  noises  ?  I  should 
know  those  tones.  Can  it  be — are  they  Mary's?  Is  she 
-•lying?" 

The  question  was  put  by  the  outlaw  in  low,  husky  tones, 
u  hich  were  scarcely  audible.  The  answer  w  -arily  ut- 

[•  red    in   the  affirmative,  though  Gray  was   reluctant    to   speak 
the   truth,   and   would  have  readily  availed  himself  of  a   : 
hood,  had  a  plausible  one  that  moment  suggested  itself  to  his 
mind. 

"  They  are  operating  upon  her,  perhaps  ?"  continued  Morton ; 

"  that  d d  fellow  of  a  surgeon  !  — he  cares  not  what  pain  he 

gives  her." 

"No,  captain,  there  is  no  operation  necessary.  The  doctoi 
says  it'll  be  all  over  with  her  soon.  He's  given  her  hurts  the 
last  dressing  that  she'll  ever  need." 

"  Ila  !  she  will  then  die  !  She  told  me  of  this  !  I  remember; 
but  I  did  not  believe  !  I  would  to  God  she  might  be  saved, 
3 ray  !  Can  nothing  still  be  done  ?  See  the  surgeon ;  let  him 
do  his  best.  I'm  afraid  you've  let  her  suffer." 

"  N«»,  every  thing's  been  done.  Old  Mrs.  Middleton  and  Miss 
t"lora  have  been  nursing  and  watching  her  the  best  part  of  the 
time  themselves." 

"And  there  is  then  no  hope?  Po"br  Mary!  Could  she  be 
brought  up  again,  I  should  be  more  kind  to  her,  Gray.  I  have 
been  more  of  a  savage  to  that  poor,  loving  creature,  than  to  any 
other  human  b^ing  ;  and  J  know  not  why,  unless  it  was  that  >he 
loved  me  better  than  all  others.  What  a  strange  nature  is  that 

of  man  —  mine,  at  least    How  d nably  perverse  has  my  spirit 

been  throughout  ; — actually,  and  always,  at  issue  with  its  own 
blessing.  Ah  !  that  shriek  !  —  shut  it  out,  Gray  —  close  the  door 
—  it  goes  like  a  .-harp,  keen  arrow  ti«  my  brain!" 

Under  the  momentary  goadings  of  remorse,  the  outlaw  buried 
his  face  in  the  bed-clothes,  an. I  strove  to  exclude  from  hearing 
the,  piercing  utterance  of  that  wo  which  was  horn  of  his  wicked 
ness.  But,  for  a  time,  the  effort  WHS  in  vain.  The  heart-rending 
accents  pursued  him,  penetrated  the  thin  barriers  which  would 


ni:  \FFLKD.  331 

•M  1  roused 

him    finally   to   a    >:at.e    «•!'  excitement    which  WatMMi    (Jraymcv 
aded  would   drive   him   to  a   condition  of  delirium 
berg,      Hut,  suddenly,  tlie  cries  of  terror  ee;. 
;ddenly,  that  the  outlaw  started  with  a  shudder  at  the  uuex 
d  and  heavy  silei. 

'   It    is   all    over  with    her.     She   IB   dead.     Go  you  and  see, 
and  tell  me.      Pour  Mary!      I  could   have 
>t    to  her  had   her  claims  hcen  it  [can  not  he 

•  is  dead.     No!    no!  —  not  yet  ;    ?li»u;_rh  mico  1  was 
_h    to  wish    it.      Forgive   me!    God    forgive    me, 
that 

The  voice  of  the  outlaw  subsided  to  a  whimper.      A  cold  shud- 
od  through  hia  frame,    !!  i  wi:h  terror. 

He  fancied  that  the  treed  spirit  of  the  woman  whom  he  siipj 

ere  it  took   its   final  departure.     Kven 

the  whispering  accents  which  followed  from  his   lips  hmke  forth 
in  sp  ejaculations. 

me,  Mary;   forgive!    for^ivi1  !      I  >h«»uhl  have  love- 
you  1    have    l.cen    a    wretcli  —  a  col'. 

1     ki:i-w    K-it   your   worth — your    value  —  ami    now.' 
II     '    \\h"    i>    there.'   who.'  —  all.  •   l>y  me; 

lake  my  hand  in  yours.      Well,  she  is  p'lic  —  M 

:;mcii    his   place    l»y  the 

i.f  the   tri'ii:!j!iiii;   criminal  M  ed.      lli>   approach    startled 

HAH  with    a   thrilling  C'mlirmatioii  «.f  the  »•;. 
which  had  l.efore  him. 

t    dead.      Her  pnroxysm 
,  will   only   waken   when    •: 

on." 

\h  !    what  a  fi  16  hut  now.       i 

:•  —I    conid    have    sworn    1    beard    her 

•ain.        Kememl»er    how    much    depend* 
ttin^  \v  tdl.      We  h.  ..t  deal    to  do, 

know." 

I  will  tn 


332  THE    SCOUT. 

to  sleep,  but  those  dreams  —  those   hideous  dreams.     Keep  be 
side  me,  Gray  —  do  not  leave  me." 

The  slight  reference  which  Gray  had  made  to  his  worldly 
schemes  and  grosser  passions,  recalled  the  outlaw  to  his  habitual 
self.  He  i  .rned  his  head  upon  the  pillow,  while  Gray  took  one 
of  his  hanns  quietly  within  his  own.  Sitting  thus  beside  him 
it  w-.r-  not  long  before  he  discovered  that  the  outlaw  had  suid- 
into  a  regular  slumber ;  and,  releasing  his  hold,  he  laid  him 
self  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  under  the  influence  of  a  natural 
exhaustion,  which  soon  brought  a  deeper  sleep  upon  his  seiisoy 
than  that  which  possessed  those  of  his  superior. 

Night  meanwhile  stole  onward  with  noiseless  foot&tep,  and  a 
deep  silence  overspread  the  whole  barony.  The  sleep  of  the 
outlaw  was  long,  deep  and  refreshing.  It  indicated  a  favorable 
condition  of  his  wounds,  such  as  Watson  Gray  had  predicted. 
The  poor  victim  in  the  neighboring  chamber  seemed  to  sleep 
also,  but  her  repose  promised  no  such  agreeable  results.  The 
lamp  of  life  was  flickering  with  uncertain  light.  The  oil  of  the 
vessel  was  nearly  exhausted.  Flora  Middleton  approached  her 
about  midnight,  and  so  still  was  her  seeming  sleep,  so  breath 
lessly  deep  did  her  slumbers  appear,  so  composed  her  features, 
and  so  rigid  her  position,  that  the  maiden  was  struck  with  the 
thought  that  the  last  sad  change  had  already  taken  place.  But, 
as  she  stooped  over  the  face  of  the  sleeper,  her  silken  ringlets 
were  slightly  shaken  by  the  faint  breathing  from  her  half-closed 
lips,  which  still  betrayed  the  presence  of  the  reluctant  aiid  lin 
Bering  life.  She  appeared  to  sleep  so  sweetly  and  soundly  that 
Flora  determined  to  snatch  a  few  moments  of  repose  also.  She 
needed  such  indulgence.  She  had  robbed  herself  of  many 
hours  of  accustomel  sleep,  in  watching  and  waiting  upon  the 
wakeful  sufferings  of  her  involuntary  guest.  Calling  in  the 
servant  whose  own  slumbers  never  suffered  impediment  or  in 
terruption  in  any  situation,  she  resigned  the  invalid  to  her  care, 
giving  her  special  instructions  to  keep  a  good  watch,  and  to 
summon  her  instantly  when  any  change  in  the  patient  was  at 
hand. 

Mira,  the  negro  woman  to  whom  this  trust  was  given,  was  one  of 
the  staid  family  servants  such  as  are  to  be  found  in  every  ancient 


Mil      A\'  U-Tl.EH  333 

southern  household,  who  ^  Tin  a  necessary  part  of  the  establish 
ment,  and  arc,  substantially,  members,  from  long  use  and  habit, 
of  tho  family  itself.  The  children  p-ow  up  under  their  watchful 
»yes,  and  learn  to  love  them  as  if  they  were  mothers,  or  at  least 
rrandmothers.  maiden  aunts,  or  aiVectionate  anti'i^e  Cousins,  who 
ivin  their  aft'.-  j  hrinirin^  bon-noi>s  in  tht'fi  pockets,  and 

»oin  thorn  in  all  their  noisy  -ames      They  rebuke  t/ie  mo 
)f  the   youiiLr.  follow  their  steps  in   iheir  errant    |il 
them  oi' danger,  and  jitit  them  to  hed  at  ni-'ht.      Mira  was  one  of 
valuable    retainers,   who   had    watched    the    childhood    of 
ft,  and    received    from    the  latter  all   the  kindness  which  she 
:.ly  deserved. 

"Now,  Manma,"  said  Flora,  at  leaving  her,  4t  don'  teep, 

You've  slept  all  the  evening,  and  can  surely  keep  wakeful  till  J 
come.  Call  me  the  moment  the  poor  girl  wakens,  or  if  you  see 
any  different* 

Mira  promised  everything,  took  her  seat  beside  the  couch  of 
the  patient,  and  really  set  out  with  a  serious  determination  to 
keep  hei  eyes  open  to  the  last.  Pmt  when  did  a  lie- P.  evet 
resist  that  most  persuasive,  seduct;ve,  and  persevering  of  all  in 
fluences  in  the  South,  particularly  in  the  lalmy  month  of  June? 
When  did  sleep  deijrn  to  solicit,  that  he  was  not  only  too  happy 
ibrace  .'  Mira  soon  felt  the  deep  and  solemn  stillness  of  the 
scene.  The  events  of  the  few  days  previous  had  exdti-d  her 
along  with  the  rest  ;  and  the  exhaustion  of  her  facultie- 
lion,  which  is  always  a  rapid  atfair  in  a1!  the  individuals  of  her 

:ly  made    her  more    than    i-v. 

'.Co  do  her  all  justice,  hov, .  n.ade   the   most    strei. 

efforts  to  resist  the  di-.wsy  influence.      Si  •  .avo 

Dfl  with  lierself,  hut  in  an  uiul"r-toiu',  on  the  ocriirn 
of  the  week.      She  di.-cussed  tlu1  nieri*.s  of  the  sundry  pnnium-nt 
persons  she  had  seen  —  Itawil-m  and  the  <  — not  fo, 

the  assistant  surgeon,  whon, 

a  "pour   hurkrufi"  in    his   own    coun'ry,  hut    which  —  ami  a 
interval  lay  hetween  —  sne   md    -jj  1    •.uuk-vtake  to  say.      Hut  the 
lamp   burned  dimly   ::     ne    neaith  —  the   shadows   that    flitted 
apon   the  walls,  in    oiTespondence,  with    its    tlii-keri:!.;-    li^ht,  in- 
ireaaed  the  gloom-^  the  patient  beside  her  in  'ink 


HIE   BCOUl. 

in  the  deepest  Clumber,  and  it  was  in  vain  f<  r  tin-  poor  negro  \r 
contend  \\ith  tin-  magnetic,  influence.  Her  head  was  gradually 
bent  forv.  ard,  and,  at  length,  lay  upon  the  liedside.  It  was  nol 
alter  this  when  she  slept  quite  as  soundly  as  if  this  blessing 
had  never  before  been  vouchsafed  her. 

When  she  slept,  the,  patient  ceased  to  do  so.  With  that  tun 
ning  which  is  said  to  mark  most  kind-  of  delirium,  ^he  had 
feigned  the  slumbers  which  she  was  never  .more  to  know  She 
perceived  that  she  was  watched  —  she  knew  thai  sli. 
strained;  and,  saw  "n  one  subject  only,  she  had  employed  the 
little  sense  that  suffering  had  left  her  in  deceiving  her  keepers. 
From  the  moment  when  she  was  told  that  Edward  Morton  occu 
pied  a  neighboring  chamber,  the  only  desire  which  remained  in 
her  in  life  was  to  sic  him  before  she  died.  For  this  had  .->lui 
raved  h,  her  paroxysm,  but  they  did  not  comprehend  her:  and 
the  htrong  leading  desire  of  her  mind  had  so  far  brought  back 
her  capacities  of  thought  and  caution,  as  to  enable  her  to  eft'eei 
her  object.  When  she.  saw  Flora  Middleton  leave  the  chamber, 
her  hopes  .xtrenglhcned  ;  and,  when  the  negro  slept  beside  her, 
she  ro>e  from  the  conch,  stealthily,  and  with  a  singular  strength, 
which  could  only  lie  ascribed  to  the  fever  in  her  system,  and  the 
intense  desire  —  a  fever  in  itself — which  filled  her  mind.  With 
a  deliberation  such  as  the  somnambulist  is  supposed  to  exhibit, 
and  with  very  much  the  appearance  of  one,  she.  lifted  the  little 
lamp  which  was  burning  within  the  chimney,  a::d  treading  firmly, 
but  with  light  footstep,  passed  out  of  the  apartment  into  the 
great  pa.ssage-way  of  the.  mansion,  without  disturbing  the  fast- 
.sleeping  negro  who  had  been  set  to  watch  beside  her. 

Meanwhile,  her  miserable  and  scarcely  mure  sane  lather,  was 
inhabiting  the  neighboring  woods,  and  prowling  about  the  prem 
ises  of    Brier    Park,  as    the    gaunt,  wolf   hovers   for   his    pr< 
•.ing,  around  the  camp  of  the  wet-tern  squatter.      The  w 
formed  a  convenient  and  accustomed   shell*-),  and  but  little  wat 
required   to   satisfy  his  wants.     He   had    but   one,   large,  leading 
appetite  remaining,  and  food  was  only  de.-.iraide  as  it  mi-lit  sup 
ply  the  necessary  .strength  for  the.  gratification  of  that  appetite 
AiiHnul  food  did   not    often    pass   his   lips  —  ardent   spirits  nevei 
L'ho  stimulus  derived  from  the  one  desire  of  bin  soul  was  enough 


\FKT.ED. 

f'»r    !  and    sucli    stray 

coul<  .Itliily  furnished    |.y  the    nei( 

slave,  from  the  cornfield  or  the  potato-patch, had  be 

Ailing  of  lution,  ll:  ".cc  of  al; 

"poo:  ut." 

A-  one  of  these,  Clarksoi)  m-w  found  it  easy  to  obtain  the 

adequate   suj •.  uts,  while   in   tho   neii:' 

i'ner  Pa>-k.      IK-  s<»"n  ili«.i-nvrivil  iii:it  !;«•  could  aj»pr- 
tin*    .  kitchen,  and    finally,  the    i: 

without  incurring  mach,  if  any  risk.     Tin-  soldiers  \vln»  II.M! 

'•i-hiii'l,  imiuinally  t«i  }ir«)tcct  tlu'  l:ulit 

tlip  woir.nlc.l    outl;t\v.  \\»MI  I'.nmi    tf:e:r  \- 

:ifl  juilii-it-usly  and  nuinsolK'd  f.irn.-.-i!y  \>\   V 

no  raiiM-  i'l.r  apprehension  ;   and  conjfi-tnrcd 
that  '  .  ird  "  \vnlf,"  iu  or  <lMi  1;" 

1I<     cautioned    and    tin*  liu-ia,  fur  he  ! 

'i«-  had  to  dt-al  with  ;    hut  as  MMHI  as  ! 

!xs  in  die  wood,  Avi. 

11  it!i   a  grt-asy   pack  _amUed   ;i 

their  ^ix|  \\  ith  all  the  p 

••••  Inch  marks  tin-  vulgar  natnic. 

found   out   their  haunt.-,  ua'.chcd  them  as  they 
thither,  and   then    ti-a\er>ed    the    jd.int  ition   at   hi-    lei 
In  this  manner  he  had  .^ecrtained  all  tin-  secret*  that  hr  d( 
it  nece^ary  :•  his  whole   thought  was  ad'ii'  - 

DOr   heard,  the  infonii:!- 
tion  which  c-'iu-criird  any  other.      To  km  w  \\  lic.c  Kdward  ' 

tin-    n:ily  k'i.»\\le.l-«-    which    he    dr-!rrd  :    ami    thi- 
.nalion  he  -ained  l  ..f  the  li<  .ut-.      II. 

chaml.er,  1m- 

.iii-l   Mr.  Hill- 
i    him    tliat   the    hour  oi 
•  •d. 

That  ni^ht,  hov,  i-ver.  ..f  which  W( 
\  icious   to    his    ohject.      The    si, 

•          A  -y  li^ht  i  tie  extent 

The  iud  \vli<'r 

the,    sentinels    found  th;ir      i 


THK   SCOUT. 

-"-"mug  quiet,  llioy  stole  away  to  an  outhouse,  ami  were  SOOL 
Swallowed  up  in  the  absorbing  interests  of  Jamaica  r.-.m  MM«| 
"old  sledge."  Clarkson  looked  in  upon  them  as  lie  went  f  r- 
ward  to  the  hoii^e  ;  but  he  took  no  interest  in  them  or  their 
proceedings,  when  they  were  once  out  of  his  w:iy.  lie  pene 
trated  to  the  house  without  interruption,  ascended  the  stairs,  ami 
d  with  impunity  into  the  very  chamber  of  the  outlaw. 

.imp  was   nearly  extinguished   in  the  chimney.     A  laint 
was   thrown  around    the   apartment,  nut    sutlicieni  to  pene 
trate  the  gloom  at   the   remoter  ends  of  it,  and  it  h-;d  1 
tieularly  placed   in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  it  from  playing 
upon    the    lace   of  the    suffering  man.      In    consequence   of  this 
arrangement,    the    greater    part    of   the   couch    lay    entirely    ;:• 
shadow  ;   and  while  Clarkson  was  looking  about    him   in  doubt 
which  way  to  proceed,  he  distinguished   the  person  of  \V 
Gray,  lying  almost  at  his  feet  upon  the  floor. 

A  glance  at  his  face  suiliced  to  show  that  he  was  not  the  man 
he  sought;  and,  passing  around  the  body  of  the  sleeper,  he  cau 
tiously  approached  the  bed,  and  drawing  the  curtain*  on  oi.e 
side,  was  aware,  from  the  deep  breathing,  and  the  occasional 
sigh  which  reached  his  ears,  that  the  man  for  whom  he  had  bei  n 
so  long  in  pursuit  of  was  lying  before,  him.  Hi.-  heart  had  lo;,^ 
been  full  of  the  desire  for  vengeance,  and  hi.-  knife  was  r 
in  his  hand.  It  wanted  but  suilicient  light  to  show  him  uhere 
to  strike  with  fatal  effect,  and  the  blow  would  have  been  given. 
He  had  but  to  feel  for  the  bieusi  of  his  enemy,  and  the  rest  was 
.  lie  was  about  to  do  so,  when  the  light  in  the  apartment 
was  suddenly  increased.  He  looked  up  with  momentary  appre 
hension.  The  Opposite  curtail!  was  drawn  aside  in  the  >amo 
moment,  and  he  beheld,  with  terror,  what  he  believed  to  he  the 
apparition  of  his  long-perished  dau-hter. 

(  •  itainly,  no  spectre  could  have  worn  a  more  pallid  or  awi'i.l 
countenance  —  no  glance   from   eyes  that  hud  once  been  mortal, 
fcould  have   ."-hone  with   more   supernatural  lustre.      The  light  of 
delirium   and    fever  was    there  —  and    !i.e   wild,  spirilual    ;:'< 
which  looks  out,  in  fitful  spasm.-,  I'i'.m  the  holl.,\v  -ochets  <>! 
H'ini:       The  glance.-  of  father  and  (laughter  m;  !  in  t'le  san.. 


Til:  Ell    BAFFLED 

rtant,  nnd  what    a   life  «>f  mutual  wo,  and  terror,  and  ile>olat'...n. 
did  they  each  convey  ! 

A  .shriek    from   both  was  the   re.-ult    of  that    Iffllooked-for   on 
counter.      The  light  dropped  from  the  hands  of  the   dying   gill 
:ipon  tho  IHM!,  and  was  extinguUhed  ;    the  dagger  fell  harmh 
from  his.  beside   the  ho.soiu  it  was   meant    to    stab.      Her  hollow 
nded  in  his  ears,  and  the  words  she  >poko  confirmed  all 
.  i-ors. 

My  father!      Oh!  my  father!"  was   the   exclamation   forced 
from  her  by  the  suddenly  recovered  memory  of  the  painful  p;>.  t  • 
and  a>  he  heard  it,  he  darted   away,  in  headlong  Hight,  hee- 
of  the   body  of  Watson  Gray,  upon   which,  in   his  terrors,   lie 
trampled,  without  a  consciousness  of  having  done  so. 

-pirtral  form  of  the  girl  darted  after  him.  He  saw  hei 
white  garment s,  as  lie  bounded  down  the  stair-flights,  and  the 
glimpse  lent  vigor  to  his  limbs.  He  heard  her  voice,  faint  and 
!«-,  like  the  moaning  whi>per  of  the  dying  bree/.e  in  autumn, 
imploring  him  to  «,tav  ;  and  it  sounded  more  terribly  in  hi- 
than  the  last  trumpet.  A  painful  fonsrion>ne>s 

iMeltv.  driven   the    poor   girl  to  the  desperate  deed  of 
destruction,  haunted   his  mind;    and   her  appearance   seemed  to 
him  that  of  one  armed  with  all  the   terrors   of  the    Avenger.      It 
will  not  be  thought  wonderful   by  those  who   are    at    all   coi. 
sant  with  the  nature  of  the  human  intellect,  and  with  the  sti 
spiritual  touches  that  move  it  to  and  fro  at  will,  to  state  that  the 
{  <»f  her  father's  pre.-ence  had   suddenly  restored  his  daugh- 
At    least,  she   knew   that   it   was   her   father 

whom  she  pursued — >he  knew  that  he  had  spurned  her  from  hi- 
.  and    her   prevent    con-ciousin-x   1,-d    her  to  implor-. 
;;id   to  die.      She  knew  that  the  hand  of  death 

of  her  situat!  her  the  requi.-ite  Mrength  t   .  th.,1  ••m-.>nit. 

before    her    pathway  r-'iihi  be  traced.  «h»»   liad    followed    Ilia 
into  the.  neighboring  forest 

u 


339  THE  SCOUT. 


CIIAI'TKU  XXX. 

TIIK    FATI1KU    AND    II  I  >    CHILD. 

CLAKK-OX,  with   all  the   terrors  of  superstitious   fright 
him,    yet    with  all    the   insiinet    of    a  scout,   sumln    shelter  in    the 
woods  from  all    pursuit,  wheth.  .•  ;  upcrnatural  or  human.      He  tied 
with  the  speed  of  the  hunted  deer,  and  had   soon  left  far  behind  him 
the  fainting    form   of  his  shadow,  pursuer.     But   of  this    he    K 
nothing.      lie   looked   not  once  after   him    upon   leaving  the  lmn>e. 
Buried  in  the  woods,  lie   was   nil!   pre--hii:  his   way    forward,  v.  he  n 
a  voice   which,    at  another  time,    would   have    heen    familiar 
friendly   in   his  eai  ed    him,  and  summoned  him   10   si<:p. 

But.  under  the  ptwailiir:  apprehension  of  his  heart,  lie  faneird 
it  the  same  voice  of  terror  which  had  risen  from  the  grave  to 
rehuk.-  him,  and  this  conviction  increased  the  terror  and  rapidity 
of  his  lli-h.t.  A  fool-  his  own  now  joined  in  the 

pursuit.     He    heard    the    <j;,iek    tread    hehind,  and    finally    1" 
him,    and.    de.-perate  with  the    feeling    that   he    was   overtaken. 
turned    wildly    to    confront    hi-    pursuer.       A    hand    ->i'  l!c-!i    and 
Mood   v.-;is  laitl    ujton    his    s  :oulder    a!    the    same  moment,   and  the 
voice  of  our  old   friend  John    Bannister    ivas-uird  him,  aw}    recon 
ciled  him  In  d. 

"By  jingsf"  exclaimed  th«-  woodman,  "if  I  didn't  know  you  to 
have  tin-  real  i,  .Jake  Clarkson,   I  would    think  you   \vas 

:n«:  to  he  rather  timur-ome  in  your  old  a^e.      What's  the  matter, 
man?— -\vha!'<  llunj:  you 

:.  John  !  i^  tliat  yon?"— and  the  frii:  tene.l  man  grappled 
the  liand  of  the  n^w-comer  with  ii Hirers  that  \ver«- ct.ld  and  clammy 
with  I1  -  i"  !;is  heart . 

'•  [  ,  hi     1:\   l!ii-     lime,  that 

R 

,nc.    here    and    ther  their    iiian  h- 

• 


help 

I'm  think!;)-,  uitli  and  hrin-in.::  with 

,mp]e  of  I':. 
as  i  from   the    Philistines   lie-  in  ih;r 

in    my    eapli 
:ind  look  at  tie 
.     John,    I'm    so    [  .11.     S;;ind    by   me  —  and 

\Vhy.  -A-h.  -hat's 

to    hurt    ;  i  v     The 

en    all    n.und   the   harony,    and    tl  half 

lk    and    half    asleep    in    an    old 

«  m  do  no  hurt,    I   tell  you." 
tin-in.  .John  —  you  don't  think  I  mind  them?     But.  . 

Hi-    voice    -link    to    a   hoarse  whisper,  and 
h-  l.."ked  behind  him.  over  the  path    i  \vith    undimin; 

•rf" 

'Mair  hild! 

•  if-!  ii  : " 

:    no  I—  !,,•!•     gboet      II-  :•     -i-ei-it  !     It    wall  John 

'    to   kill    ' 
11  'i    '  i    in    th"   hoi;.  been 

::i-h  went.     I   -. 

hilu 

till   to  iii^ht.     ] 
[couldn't 

!:iiu  the  (  uilain  dra\\  ed  up  on  on, 

r    than    the    diiven 
liuht.     di,  !    lio\v  dreadful    \\hi!« 

. 

then,   it  ..,„,!    I    ,--,. 


JUG  THK  SCOUT. 

walk  ;  she  seemed  to  c:/i::e  wit],  the  air;  and  to  fly  between  tLe 
frees " 

"What!    you    didn't    Bee    her  after  yon  left  llie   house,   did 

"?" 

"  Yes  I   oh  yes?     She  fie\v  after  me  into  the  w»ds." 

The  wo  xlinai)  struck  his  head  with  his  palm,  as,  readily  con 
ceiving  ill,-  true  ground  ;'or  Olarkson's  terrors,  he  tluught  of  the 
wounded  and  dying  girl  in  a  paroxysm  of  delirium,  flying  into 
the  ragged  forest  a(  midnight. 

"  Stay  here,  stay  awhile,  Jake,  while  I  go!"  said  he. 

••  l),,i)  {  -o  —  don't  leave  me!"  implored  the  old  man.  "It's 
I  that  killed  her,  John,  l.y  my  cruelty.  I  driv'  her  away  from 
the  house,  and  she  went  mad  and  drowned  herself  in  the  Cou- 
garee ;  and  she  haunts  me  for  it.  She's  here  near  us  now, 
watching  for  you  to  go.  Don't  go,  John  ;  don't  leave  me  now. 
If  YOU  do,  I'll  run  to  the  river.  I'll  drown  myself  after  her." 

Bannister  found  some  difficulty  in  soothing  the  superstitions 
terrors  of  the  old  man,  hut  he  at  length  succeeded  in  doing  so 
in  sufficient  degree  to  persuade  him  to  remain  where  he  was,  in 
waiting,  till  lie  went  forward  toward  the  mansion. 

"  I'll  whistle  to  you  the  old  whistle,"  said  the  woodman,  "  ae 
I'm  coming  hack.  But  don't  you  he  scared  at  anything  you 
see.  I'm  sure  there's  no  ghost,  that  ain't  a  nateral  one.  J've 
never  known  the  story  of  a  ghost  yet  that  it  didn't  turn  out  to 
lie.  a  curtain  in  the-  wind,  a  white  sheet  hung  out  to  dry,  or  nu.ut 
1)(.  —  sich  things  will  scare  some  people  —  a  large  moss-beard 
hanging  down  upon  a  green  oak's  branches.  If  a  man's  to  bo 
scared  by  a  ghost,  Jake  Clarkson,  I  give  him  up  for  a  scout.,  or 
e\  (  n  for  a  soldier.  lie  won't  do  for  the  woods.  There's  not  an 
owl  in  an  old  tree  that  ain't  his  master — there's  not  a  piece  of 
rotten  wood  shining  in  the  bottom,  that  air/t  a,  devil  ready  to 
nm  off  with  him.  The  squirrel  that  jumps  in  the  hush,  and  the 
li/.ard  that  runs  upon  the  dry  leaves,  is  a  little  sort  of  'a  com- 
mg-to-ca;ch-me,'  for  sich  a  person  ;  and,  God  help  hiin,  i-  i  pine- 
burr  should  drop  on  his  head  when  he  ain't  thinking.  If  his 
heart  don't  jump  out  of  his  mouth,  quicker  than  ever  A  green 
frog  jumped  out  of  a  black  snake's  hollow,  then  I'm  no  man  tc 
know  anything  about  scouting.  No,  no  !  Jake  Clarkson,  t'won* 


THK    rATHKIl    AND     HI-    .. "I!  !!.!>.  .'Ml 

•!(»  for  yon  that's  heeu  counted  a  strong  n..,n,  who  didn't  !'<•  if 
the  devil  nor  the  tories.  to  ho  taking  frig]  t  at  a  something  that's 
more,  like  i  dream  than  anything  s-rious.  It's  ncAhir.g  hut 
what's  nateral  that's  scared  you,  P«  thinking,  ar»d  jist  you  k«-cp 
'[tiiet  till  I  ^o  liaek  and  see.  They  can't  bcare  me  with  their 
hluo  .lights  and  burning  eyes.  My  mother  was  a  woman,  with 
the  soul  of  a  man,  that  had  the  real  grit  in  her.  I  was  only 
scared  once  in  my  lite,  and  thru  she  licked  t\ie  scare  out  of  me, 
'inpleto  that  that  one  licking's  lasted  me  agin  any  scare  that 
ever  happened  since." 

"  Hut  my  child  — my  poor  child  — the  child  that  I  killed,  John 
Hanni>ter,"  said  the  father  in  reproachful  accents. 

-  Well,  there's  something  in  that,  Jake  Clarkson,  I  in  willing 

to   admit.     AN* hen   a   man's  done  a  WJV.ST  thing,   if  anything's 

right  tii  scare  him,  it's  that.     But  though  you  was  cross,  and  too 

I    told   you,  (<>   poor   Mary,  yet  it's   not   reasonable  to 

think   you    killed    her:    and    I'll    lay  my  life   on   it,  if  you  saw 

y  Clarkson  to-night   you  saw  the    real    Mary,  and   no  make 

h'lievc —  no   ghost!       But   I'll   go   and    see,   and   if  there's   any 

t  at.  trust   me   to  pick   it   up   somewhere  along  the 

track.      Krt  p  you  quiet  here,  and   mind   to  an.Mver  my  whistle." 

The  woodman   hurried    auav,  witluut   waiting  to  answer  the 

inquiries   of  the   unhappy  father,  wh->m  the  words  of  the  former 

had    led    to   new    ideas.      The    su^irestion.  thrown    out    hy    Hau- 

i,  that  Mary  Clarkson  mi^ht  he  yet  alive,  was  intended  hy 

the    -  prepare    the    mind    of    the    former   for    a    pr-  l>al>le 

•  'Mi  himself  and  his  child.     lie  left  kirn  COIIMMJ:^ 

:'  impatient  agitation,  whirli  was  far  more 

•  the    phvHcal    man,  than  woul.l  have  hern  th«?  rn- 
(•(•untrr  «.f  a  in   hatth-  ;   and,  with  ;i  feehleness  ^liicli 
iooki-(l  lii                     the  f'>nas  of  paralvsis,  and  had   its  c£fect«  for 
a  time,  tin-  old  man  sank   upon    the  ground  at  the  foot  of  a  tree, 

.-roani-d  with  the  very  pain  of  imhecility. 

H.-miiiMer,  meanwhile,  took   his  way  hark   in   the   direction  of 
the    mansion,  and    as    near!  -  :hlo    ah.ng   the    rov 

whiili  he  supposed  hi>  (•••mpar.i.m  t<»  have  run.  His  judgment 
proved  correct  in  this,  as  in  mo>t  particulars.  He  had  harcly 
ernerir-  '  from  th.c  thicker  wood-,  and  got  upon  the  edge  of  thr 


342  THE  SCOUT. 

immediate  enclosure  which  circumscribetj  the  area  of  the  house 
hoM,  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  white  heap  which  lay 
within  thirty  yards  of  the  woods.  lie  approached  it,  and  found 
it  to  l.i.'i  the  object  of  his  search. 

Tl<."  povr  girl  A\rns  stretclied  upon  the  ground  Immovable, 
'lie  Mi.ai!  deo-reo  of  &!r«en£th  with  which  the  momentary  par- 
ojysm  had  inspired  h<-r,  had  passed  away,  and  she  lay  supine  ;  — 
her  r-»ves  wen?  opened  and  watching  the  woods  to  which  her 
fatb<  v  li.-id  il.'d.  .Her  hand?  i^ew  sketched  outward  ill  the  same 
direction.  Deal  a  .-as  upon  her,  but  the  weight  of  his  hand 
w\^  rot  ho;ivy.  and  hin  sting  did  not  seem  to  be  felt.  A  shght 
moaning  sound  es-aped  her  lips,  but  it  was  rather  the  utterance 
<>!'  the  vailing  b:va'h  !:n:i  of  any  sensation  of  pain  which  she 
experienced.  John  Bannister  knelt  down  beside  her.  The 
stout  man  once  more  found  himself  a  boy. 

"This  then,''  was  the  thought  which  filled  his  brain  —  "this 
then,  is  the  sweet  little  girl  whom  1  once  loved  so  much  !" 

She  knew  him.  A  faint  smile  covered  her  features,  and  al 
most  the  last  eil'ort  of  her  strength,  enabled  her  to  point  to  the 
woods,  and  to  exclaim  :  — 

"  My  father  !   my  father  ! —There  !      Bear  me  to  him,  John." 
The  hand   fell   suddenly,  the  voice  was  silent,  the  lips  were 
closed.      A  >hiver  shook  the  limbs  of  the  strong  man. 
"Mary!   Mary!"  he  called  huskily. 

Her  eyes  unclosed.  She  was  not  dead.  There  was  still  life, 
and  there  might  be  time  to  place  her  in  the  arms  of  her  fathet 
:.-  it  was  utterly  gone.  A  noise  in  the  direction  of  th" 
mansion,  and  the  appearance  of  lights  in  rhe  avenue,  .letennined 
the  prompt  .woodman.  He  wound  his  arms  tenderly  about  her. 
i-a;.,(-«!  her  to  his  bosom,  laid  her  head  on  hi*  shoulder,  and  as  if 
she  had  been  a  mere  infant  in  his  grasp,  darted  forward  into  the 
cover  of  the  woods.  The  alarm  had  evidently  been  given  at 
the  mansion,  he  heard  the  voices  of  the  household,  and  the  sud 
den  clamors  of  the  half-sober  and  half-sleeping  soldiery.  Hut 
he  def'fd  pursuit  and  search,  as,  bounding  olV,  m  the  well 
known  route,  he  BOOH  placed  his  burden  at  the  toot  of  her 
father. 

"  Here,  f  Markson,  here  is  your  daughter.      Here  is  pool  .Mary 


FATIIKK 

not  long  to  live.     She'  Be  ,jui-  . 

talk  Boftlj   I*1 

Clarkson   bounded  ;•-  his  :  1    with   convul.si-e.  tin 

tlio  pale,  silent  form  before  him,  tliei:,  \vith  the  .shriek  of  a 
'     miserable   joy,    he    clasped    her    in    his    KOOB.        II. -r 
opened    upon    him.      He    held    lu.r   iVuin   him   that   ho  migl,: 

•'  lllt'«'t  t!  -  died,  thre  ,,ard  upon 

his   hivist,  and  was    l.uried    within    bj  In  a  wild   in- 

i-li,  of  mixed   tenderness   and    n  preach,  he   poured 

.  the  emotions  of  hi>  heart — the  pan._  the  j  ' 

enf — the  chiding  of  his  own   cruelty,  and    her 

misdeeds.        But    she    answered    nothing  —  she.    heard    nothing. 

nor  Maine  could  touch  or  penetrate  the  dull,  cold 

.  at  rest 

lear  Mary.     Only  tell  me  that  you  forgive  me 
all,  as  John  Bannister  can  tell  you  I  have  forgiven  v< •; 

will    never   speak   again,  Jacoli.      It's  all   over.      She's 
:  the  pain,  ami  the  trouble,  and  the  vexation  of  this  life  ; 

mure   in 

ell    U    I,   that   she's  had   a   gnat   deal   more  than   her 
Bliar< 

'•  Vou  don't  dead  ?"  said  Clarl^on  huskily. 

"  Well,  except  f«>r  the  pain  of  it,  j  :    dead  a  long  time, 

ihe    d.,n't    hear   you,    I    reckon,  and   she  don't  feel 
UTID8,  th-.u-h  you  hold  her   so    ,  potl.      (Jive    her   to 

II   into    the    hav.      The 
lights   from   the    hou>e    ;ire    eomil  .  and    they  mav  find    u> 

"Let   "em    COmel — who   cares?      '1  ::'t    w.int    h«r   ; 

.she's  dead  !" 

•'  N«  :    Lilt  they  may  want  //.v,  .lacol.." 
"  Let  them  want,  and  let  them   leefc  '       \Ve>ie   r 
l'.Urht,  I  u.-i-e  .dutclic-d  tog 

-till  within  th- 

we'll    ii^:  ,  "  iiut  not  here,  ;•.: 

ne  put  her  ..ut  of  the  «    ;.    .       I 
where  she.  is — not  in  her  presence,  as  I  may  say." 


-44  TEE  SCOUT. 

"  True,  true."  replied  the  other  faintly  ;  "  but  I U  carry  her, 
John." 

Bannister  did  not  ohject,  but  led  the  way  to  the  thicket,  while 
the  father  followed  with  his  burden.  There,  the  woodman  drew 
forth  his  matchbox  and  struck  a  light,  and  the  two  sat  down  to 
survey  the  pale  spiritual  features  of  one  who  had  certainly  held 
51  deep  place  in  the  affections  of  both.  It  was  a  curious  survev. 
Their  place  of  retreat  was  one  of  those  dense  sombre  masses  of 
the  forest  where,  even  in  midday,  the  wholesome  daylight  never 
thoroughly  came.  The  demi-obscure  alone — 

"The  little  glooming-  light  most,  like  a  shade," 

declared  the  meridian  hour;  while  at  midnight  the  place  was 
dark  as  Erebus.  The  broad  circumferences  of  oaks,  the  lofty 
stretch  of  ever-moaning  pines,  gathered  close  and  solemnly 
around  as  if  in  secret  council  ;  while  vines  and  leaves,  massed 
together  in  the  intervals  above,  effectually  roofed  in  the  spot 
with  a  dread  cathedral  vastncss  and  magnificence.  The  spot  had 
been  freely  used  before  by  the  outlyers,  and  more  than  one  com 
fortable  bed  of  dried  leaves  might  be  discovered  under  the  oaks. 
On  one  of  these  the  body  of  the  girl  was  laid.  A  few  paces 
distant  from  her  feet,  in  a  depression  of  the  earth,  John  Bannis 
ter  had  gathered  his  splinters  and  kindled  a  little  lire,  jus*  suffi 
cient  to  enable  them  to  behold  one  another,  and  p^iaps  make 
them  more  than  ever  feel  the  deep  and  gloomy  density  of  the 
place.  The  adjuncts  of  the  scene  wen-  all  calculated  to  make 
them  feel  its  sadness.  No  fitter  spot  c-ould  have  been  chosen  I'm1 
gloomy  thoughts  ;  none  which  could  more  completely  harmo 
nize  with  the  pallid  presence  of  the  dead.  The  head  of  the 
girl  rested  in  the  lap  of  the  father.  John  Bannister  sat  behind 
the  old  man.  A  sense  of  delicacy  made  him  reserved.  He  did 
not  wish  to  obtrude  at  such  a  moment. 

Years  had  elapsed  since  the  father  had  been  persuaded  that 
liis  child  had  been  lost  to  him,  irrevocably,  by  death  ;  and  this 
conviction  w*s  embittered  by  the  further  belief  that  his  own  vio- 
bnce  had  driven  her  to  a  desperate  end.  In  that  convict  ion. 
deep,  and  keen,  and  bitter,  were  the  pangs  of  his  soul  ;  —  pangs 
<rHch  he  cr -d  only  blunt  by  the  endeavor,  hitherto  futile.  ** 


T.U-:    .  ITflXB    \M>    HIS   CHILD.  345 

rinding,  and  inflict;,  once  upon,  her  betrayer.      Dark  bad 

been  liis  s« Mil,  darker  it-  .  us.    At  length  lie  finds 

her  alive,  whom  lie  had  fancied  IK-  had  destroyed.      He  finds  her 
living,  <>idy  to   see   her   die.      His  thoughts  may  be  conjectured, 
not    traced,   nor  described,  as  he  watched  the  pale  countenance, 
still  beautiful,  which   Ir.y  before   him   in   the    iminoveable   ice   of 
•'•:.     He  watched  her  long  in  silence.     Not  a  word  was  spoken 
by  himself;  and  John   Hanni>ter  felt  too  sincerely,  on  his  own 
;nt,  for  idle   and  unnecessary  remark.      But  the  stifled   na 
ture  at  length  broke  it>  bonds.     The  heart  of  the  father  heaved 
with  the  accumulating   emotions.     Deep  groans   burst   from   his 
iden  Hood  of  relieving  tears  gushed  from  his  eye* 
R-mnister  felt  easier  as  he  perceived  the  change. 

Mi's   for  the  he>f."  said  he,  with  a  plain  homespun  effort  at 

•lation.     "It's    best    that    she's   gone,  Jake   Clarkson  ;   and 

her  jest  long   enough   to   bring  you  to- 

•  T    that    you    might    exi-han-.-!     j-.-.i'don.      You    was    a    little 

was  a  little  ra-K  u  '  Go],  he  knows,  you've  both 

:;i5;^ht\-  bad  roughing  i<  •   I*;  »j*.  *  '•  si.icc.     Poor  thing,  she's 

,tr  c-irngi":   '•.    me.      I'm  not  jub'ous 

about  it.  ;   sinner  like  the  best,  but  if  she  wa'n't 

for  it.  from  the  b-  rf-.m  of  her  heart,  then  sinner  never  was 

.      J'oor   Mary,  if  ^he   hadn't    looked   a  little  too  high,  she 

In't  ha'   fallen   s<>  low.     She'd  ha'  been  an  honest  man's 

:   bnl  what'--  the  use  to  talk  of  that  now.     It  only  makes 

6  more." 

1,  John.     It  sort  o*  softens  a  man  !" 

"  Not   too   much.      A  man  oughtn't   to  be  too  soft  about  the 
heart,  in  a  world  i:  .  full  of  rascals  that  need  the  kimck- 

"f  a   hard   and   h^avy  hand.      Yet,  ef  a   man   ought  t- 

\v,  that   man's  me.      It's  a  sad  truth, 
,    '         the  ]    lint  <>f  axing  you   and  Mary  !      I 
was;  f«»r  I  JiJ  h>\  1    ha'n't  seer  woman  to  I 

biy  to  this;    -ind  but  for  E«h\ard  ('••nway! " 

"'i!     '       loody    villain!      That    thief— that    murderer!      Ha 
111!      Hut   I   will  have  him  yt.John   Haunister  !      I    WM  a  t-M.1  to 
be  &7gbtened  !ia«!  my  hand   at  his  throat,  and 

nothing  to  stop  me.     There    In-  lay,  fctill  and  ready  for  the  knife! 


846  THE    SCOUT. 

IIo  !  Johu,jist  there!  J  think  I  sec  him  now  Stretched  out, 
his  eyes  shut,  his  '  n,  and  uohody  looking  on " 

"  Stop,  Jacob  riarkson,  God  was  a  looking  on  all  the  time — 
and  Mary  Clarkson  was  a  looking  on  ?  —  and  what  sent  her  thai 
jot  at  that  moment  ?  Who  hut  God  !  And  what  did  he  send 
her  thai1  for,  hut  to  stop  you  from  doing  a  wrong  thing?  Look 
yon,  Jake  Clarkson,  yi  .  know  I  don't  often  stop  to  think  or  to 
feel  \\hen  lighting's  going  on.  I'm  as  quick  to  kill  as  the  quick 
est  dragoon  in  all  Tarletou's  hrigade.  That  is,  I'm  quick  to  kill 
when  it's  the  time  for  killing.  But  there's  a  time  for  all  things, 
and  1  ain't  quick  to  kill  a  man  that's  a-sleeping,  and  him  too,  so 
cut  up  already,  that  it's  a  chance  ef  he.  ain't  got  enough  to  hnry 
him.  I'm  a-tlnnking,  Jacoh  Clarkson,  that  God  has  jest  given 
you  a  good  warning,  that  you  must  do  your  killing  in  fair 
fight,  and  not  by  stealing  to  a  man's  bedside  when  he's  sleep 
ing,  and  hu  pretty  well  chopped  up  already.  I  reckon  you'll 
be  the  man  to  kill  Ned  Con  way  yet,  ef  what  he's  got  don't 
finish  him;  and  ef  it  does,  you've  only  to  thank  God  for  tak 
ing  an  ugly  business  off  your  hands.  When  I  look  upon 
Mary,  thar,  it  puts  me  out  of  the  idea  of  killing  altogether. 
I'm  sure  I  wish  peace  was  everywhere.  Lord  save  us  from 
a  time  like  this,  when  a  poor  child  like  that  runs  into  the 
way  of  hard  blows  and  bloody  we'pons.  It  makes  my  heart 
sort  o'  wither  up  within  me  only  to  think  of  it." 

But  Clarkson  was  not  much  impressed  by  the  grave  opin 
ions  of  his  companion.  He  had  always  respected  the  straight 
forward  character  and  manly  judgment  of  the  woodman;  and 
there  was  something  very  plausible,to  the  superstitious  mind, 
in  the  case  presented  at  the  outset  of  the  woodman's  speech. 

"  Sure  enough!  sure  enough!"  said  the  old  man;  "how 
could  she  come,  jest  at  the  moment  I  was  going  to  kill  him, 
if  God  didn't  mean  that  I  shouldn't  do  it  jest  then!  But 
if  lie  gets  well  again,  John  Bannister " 

"  Kill  him  then— I'm  cl'ar  for  that!  I'll  kill  him  myself 
then  ef  nobody  comes  before  me  with  a  better  right. 
You've  got  a  sort  of  claim  to  the  preference." 

We  need  not  pursue  the  conference.  One  question  which 
went  to  the  heart  of  John  Bannister,  and  which  he  evaded, 


'    !1!1.I>. 

i  the  un- 

,::iir.   he  felt  tin-in  (!:uiiiuy   \viiii  hei   Mood. 
The  revelation  of    her  physieal  in; 

11  Oh,    (I..,!,    .'  hurt. 

!  di'ln't  mind  the  banda'_" 

death.      The  cruel  villain  has  killed  her.      II- 
•:•!  killed  ' 

laimcd  ti:  'J.-itinn 

of    voice   and  •  liicli    be! :  t    pangs. 

'••!«•  t<>  hurt  anybody.      I  n ekon  —  I'm  si:;- 
irot  liurt  by  accident.      I'll    answer  for  it,  the  man  th 

!•  cut   hi-   ri-ht    hand    <  !T  tbaO 
lit  y     I'm  accident  !"  — 

•  How  went 

and  sVi-pt  like  a  child  as  h«-  thought  ovi-r  the  "\vn 

•  heavy  h;; 

.  «uit  ihe  truth,  whicl 

r  all.      Hut   how  could  I  tell    Jake  ( 'lurk 
the  hand  of    .John    I  '  hut    shed    the 

woful  cnouizh  t'>  feel  it." 

To    bury    thi'  dead   from  hi>  -iirlit    l«ec-iinc    the   last   duly  of  the 
father.     John    P>anni>ler  was  for  ;he  liody  to  the   family 

vaidt  of  the  .Middletons  and  layin.ir  ii  tin  re  by  dawn  of  day.     Hut  to 
this  Clark -i.n  in-iatilly  dissented. 

:d  ii"  ;   "  ihe  JMidillt  '  !  the  Clark- 

mixed   \\ith  'em   in  life, 
iiould  mix  in  death." 

But  you  don't  know  Mi—  Flora,    .l.-.eob  (  larkson." 
'    I  don't  want  to  know  her." 

<1.     Mie'd  l»e  _irlud.  I'm  -un  .  if  wr  \\.-i-.  t..  j.ut    her 
there.     >he'-.    bf.-ii    tending  if    sin- 

I    b-  li>   I 

John.       Hut,  aftl  r     li>  P,     and     shut 

out   of   tlie    vault    when 
there   to  when    I    v. 

'.  e'H     put 

:v,    and    there's   root;. 


348  THE   SCOUT 

She  was  bom  in  the  Congaree,  and  she'll  sleep  sweetly  beside 
it.  If  you  live  after  me,  John,  put  me  there  with  her.  It's  a 
little  smooth  hill  that  always  looks  fresh  with  grass,  as  if  God 
smiled  upon  the  spot  and  n  good  angel  'lighted  there  in  the 
night  time.  Go,  John,  and  try  and  find  a  shovel  in  the  fields 
somewhers.  We've  got  no  coffin,  but  we'll  wrap  the  child  up 
in  pine  bark  and  m)gs,  and  she  won't  feel  it  any  colder.  Go, 
and  let  me  sit  down  with  her  by  ourselves.  It's  a  long  time, 
you  know,  since  I  talked  ,iith  her,  and  then  I  talked  cross  and 
haiv.h.  I'll  say  nothing  to  vex  her  now.  Go,  get  the  shov<  1, 
if  you  can,  and  when  you  come  back,  we'll  take  her,  and  I'll 
show  you  where  to  dig.  By  that  time  we'll  have  day  to  help 
us.' 

Bannister  departed  withou  a  word,  and  left  the  father  with 
his  dead.  We  will  not  intruds  upon  his  sorrows;  but,  when 
the  whole  history  of  the  humble  pair  is  considered,  no  sight 
could  be  more  mournful  than  to  behold  the  two — there,  in 
that  lonely  and  darksome  maze  of  forest  —  at  midnight  —  the 
flickering  firelight  cast  upon  the  pallid  features,  almost  trans 
parent,  of  the  fair,  dead  girl,  while  the  father  looked  on,  and 
talked,  and  wept,  as  if  his  tears  could  be  seen,  and  his  excuses 
and  self-reproaches  heard,  by  the  poor  child  that  had  loved  so 
warmly,  and  had  been  so  hardly  dealt  with  by  all  whom  she 
had  ever  loved.  Conway  had  ruined  her  peace  and  happiness; 
her  lather  had  driven  her  from  her  home;  and  he,  who  had 
never  wilfully  meant,  or  said,  her  wron^,  had  inflicted  the  fatal 
blow  which  had  deprived  her  of  life  —  perhaps,  the  stroke  of 
mercy  and  relief  to  a  crushed  and  wounded  spirit  such  as  hers  ! 
Truly,  there  was  the  hand  of  a  fate  in  this — that  fate  that 
surely  follows  the  sad  lapses  of  the  wilful  heart!  Hers  was 
rather  weak  than  wilful ;  but  weakness  is  more  commonly  the 
cause  of  vice  than  wilfulness ;  and  firmness  is  one  of  tho.se 
moral  securities,  of  inappreciable  value,  without  which  there  is 
little  virtue. 


AN    INTKi:vii;\\  SCOUTS.  349 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

AN   i. \TKIIVIK\V   i:r.T\vi:i;\   THI;  TWO  SCUUTS. 

MKA.NWH  i.r.,  the    alarm    had    IMM-II    given  at    Brier  I';i. 
tin*  whole  house  was  in  commotion.      Wat.s'»n  (ir,,  . 

<;nil>le  up,  and  into  cnn^ciou>iu-ss.  upon  tlie  flight  of  Mary 
Clarkson;  simply  hccause  he  had  Keen  fortunate  enough  t- 
the  full  force  of  the  flying  footsteps  of  her  father.  ]\i\t  st",  eral 
moments  had  elapsed  after  her  departure,  hefore  the  diM-ovcry 
of  the  fact  was  made,  and  the.  pursuit,  which  was  then  niY.-rcd, 
appears  to  have  taken  a  wr«»ng  direction.  (Vrtaii'ily,  they  did 
not  liml  the  place  of  her  concealment,  nor  the  trace.-,  of  her 
(light. 

Yet   no  pains  were  spared  to  do  so.     The  circumstances  were 
mysterious  and  exciting;  —  to  Flora  Middleton,  particular!; 
She  reproached  herself,  though,  certainly,  without  justice,   f»r 
having   left   the   poor  girl   in   the  cu.st«>d\      ; 

and   her   self-chidin^s    were,    hy    no    means    learned    when    tin- 
minds  of  all  at  the  harony  appeared  iown  in  th<-  l.clirf 

that,  in  her  delirium,  the  poor  girl  had  wandered  <>lY  to  the  rivi-r 
hanks  and  cast  herself  into  its  waters.  Thus,  a  second  time, 
the  innocent  ('..ngaree  made  to  hear  the  repr«iaeli  of  p-irti- 
cipating  in,  and  promoting,  the  de>trurt!</n  < -l  the  same  unhappy 
life. 

In  the.  chamher  of  the.  outlaw,  the  feelings,  if  !• 
tender,  were  surely  not  h  ! 

.,    the    mere    death    of   the    pour  victim   of    hi 
would    have    heen   of  \CY\    small    importaii'-e.      Perhaps,  \\i- 
he  would  have  felt  that   it  wa>    a    ht-nelit — a    '. 
toward    the    more    pert'  l'  his   principal.      But  tlioo 

some    circuin.staner-    that    compelled     hi 
Who   had   Keen   in   the   rhai-iln-r  '      \N~ha'   lid 


350  TIIK    RCODT. 

vhat    trampled    upon    him?  —  awl    why    was    that    strange    and 
formidable  knife  resti  ig  beside  the-  person  of  the  outlaw] 

That  somebody,  fi  un  the,  apaviment  of  Mary  Clarkson,  had 
been  in  that  of  Edward  Conway,  was  MUMI  apparent  from  the 
discovery  of  the  little  lamp  which  the  former  had  carried,  and 
which  had  fallen  from  her  hands  upon  the  couch  of  the  lat 
ter,  in  the  moment  when  she  saw  her  father's  face.  This  had 
been  recognized  by  the  servants,  and  the  fact  made  known  in 
the  confusion  of  the  search.  But,  though  Gray  felt  certain 
that  Mary  had  been  in  the  room,  he  felt  equally  certain  that 
there  had  been  another  also.  It  was  possible  that,  in  her  de 
lirium,  the  poor  girl  may  have  carried  the  knife  as  well  as 
the  light,  and  that  she  may  have  meditated  the  death  of  her 
betrayer: — all  that  was  natural  enough;  but  Gray  felt  sure 
that  a  heavier  foot  had  trampled  upon  his  neck  and  breast. 
Naturally  of  a  suspicious  temper,  his  fe;ws  were  confirmed, 
when,  issuing  from  the  house,  at  the  lirst  alarm,  lie  found  his 
guards  either  withdrawn,  or  straggling  toward  their  posts  in  al 
most  helpless  inebriety.  Their  condition  led  him  to  recall  the 
story  of  the  surgeon.  The  description  which  the  latter  gave  of 
the  stranger  who  had  penetrated  to  the  breakfast-room  —  his 
garments  of  blue  homespun,  ;uid  the  huge  knife  which  he  ear 
ned —  tended,  in  considerable  degree,  to  enlighten  him  on  the 
subject.  He  called  the  attention  of  the  surgeon  to  the  knife 
which  had  been  found  on  the.  bed,  and  the  latter,  so  far  con 
firmed  the  identity  of  it  with  the  one  which  the  supposed  ghost 
was  seen  to  carry,  as  to  say  that  the  one  was  equally  large  of 
with  the  other;  but  the  former  was  incomparably  more 
bright,  lie  handled,  with  exceeding  caution,  the  daik  and 
v  instrument,  and  re-delivere.u1  it,  with  lingers  that  seemed 

•lieved  from  the  unpleasant  contact. 

Ing    the    surprise    of  the    r.cont    at   Mich  seeming  apprehen- 
,  he    begun    a    long   discourse  about  contagion,  injection, 
instinctive  dread  which    lie    had    of  ail    cutanecus  disorder.-,  , 
11  of  which    (Jray  turned    a    I'l-af  car,  and    a   wandering   eve. 
The  outlaw  had  been  wakened   by  the  unavoidable  n>>is.-  of  the 
search,  and    had    heard  with    some  <urpri>e  and   interest    the  cir 
cumstances  which  weie  detailed  to  him  by  Gray 


AN  r  A    I;KT\VI-:I;\  TUK   iwo  SCOUTS.         851 

"II  u   know  I    had   the 

p.  in  which  I  dreamed  that  Mary  ami  myself  were 
walking  over  the   old    rice-dam   on  the    Santee,  and    1    began   to 
:<>i  her  ju-t  u   I  frit  then,  when  I    fir>t   knew   her,   and  she 
seemed  twice  as  lively,  and  twice  as  intelligent.    How  strange  !" 
•    had  judiciously    suppressed    some  of  the  circumstances 
connected  with   t!  of  the  evening.     He  had  concealed 

the    knife    entirely,  and    forbore    Mating    to    him,  as    well    HB   to 
.  erything  which  related  to  the  Mipp..sed  intru 
sion  of  some  stranger  into  the  hou-ehold. 

"You    have    found    her.  '    said   the   outlaw,  when  the 

former  returned  from  the  search. 

••  No!   she  is  nowhere  in  the  ground-." 
"  Indeed  !   could  she  have  wandered  to  the  river?" 
"  That  is  what  they  all  think." 
"  Hut  you?" 

"  1  know  not  what  to  think." 
"  Why  should  you  not  think  with  them  ?" 

"  I    should,   but    she    did    not    seem    to  me    to    have    strength 
enough  for  that.     The  river  is  a  mile  off;   and  she  was  evidently 
sinking  fast  when  I  saw  her  this  evening." 
"  Where,  then,  do  you  think  In 

"Somewhere   at   hand.      In   some   outhouse,  or  some   hole  01 
tat  —  or.  po»ihly.  in   s<.me  ditch,  oi   ch.se  nest  of  bushes, 

't  find  her  hy 
"Good   God!    and   she    ha^   jTohahly    perished    there — and 

as  silent,  and   the  outlaw  felt   the  returning  pangs  of 
••'.  Inch  mod   prnhal'ly  would   have  remained  unfelt 
,'t  during  the  proent  period  ,,f  his  own  inability. 

Ifiry,      I    would,  Gray,  that    I    could    live   ovei 
SMine  thin--  —  -'ine  ni..mcnt>  —  of  the  pail 

'   I'  •  afllict  you  so  much.     It  can't  be  helped,  anc 

re  coinniiin  enough." 

'•ommon   enoiiirli.   indeed.      Nothing    m«.re   commuii  than 
nuI11Hn    I:  iinoii    than   the  human  guilt 

which  cau-e-  it.      And    lm\v  i-oolly  d  ^  nu<>ime8S 

of  both,  by    R  vonciling   our   souls    to    their   recunv 


352  riifi  SCOUT. 

The  philosophy  of  Watson  Gray  is,  unhappily,  of  a  veiy  com 
mon  description. 

"  Yes,  yes.  But  such  a  catastrophe  !  You  have  been  look 
ing  for  her?" 

"  Yes,  for  tlie  last  two  hours." 

"  Hut  you  will  go  again.     You  must,  Gray." 

"  With  the  daylight,  I  intend  to  do  so." 

"That's  well.  See  to  her,  for  God's  sake,  Gray,  and  if  she 
lives,  h>t  her  last  inoment>  he  easy.  If  all's  over,  see  her  care 
fully  huried  .  .  .  It's  an  ugly  business.  Would  I  were  free  i>f 
that  !  1  know  not  any  blood  that  I  would  sooner  wish  to  wash 
from  my  hands  than  hers." 

"That  should  be  the  wish  of  Clarence  Conway,  not  yours," 
said  Gray,  taking  the  literal  sense  of  the  outlaw's  expression. 

"  Ah,  Gray,  the  blow,  the  mere  blow,  is  a  small  matter.  If  I 
were  free  from  the  rest,  I  think  nothing  more  would  trouble  me. 
The  last  drop  ran  the  cup  over  —  but  who  filled  it  to  the  brim  1 
who  drugged  it  with  misery  ?  who  made  the  poor  wretch  drink 
it,  persuading  her  that  it  was  sweet  and  pure  ?  Ah,  Gray,  I 
fear  I  have  been  a  bad  fellow,  and  if  there  were  another  world 
hereafter  —  a  world  of  puni^nments  and  rewards!" 

"Your  situation  would  be  then  changed,  perhaps,"  was  the 
brutal  sneer  of  Gray,  "and  every  privilege  which  you  had  in 
this  life  would  then  be  given  up  to  her.  Perhaps  you'd  better 
sleep,  captain  ;  sickness  and  want  of  sleep  are  not  good  helps  to 
a  reasonable  way  of  thinking." 

"Gray,  1  suspect  you're  a  worse  fellow  than  myself,"  re 
sponded  the  outlaw,  with  a  feeble  effort  at  a  laugh.  "Ten  to 
one,  the  women  have  more  to  complain  of  at  your  Lands  than 
they  ever  had  at  mine." 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps.  But  I  think  not.  The  little  I 
know  of  them  makes  me  fancy  that  they're  a  sort  of  plaything 
for  grown  people.  As  long  as  they  amuse,  well  and  good,  and 
when  they  cease  to  do  so,  the  sooner  y«>u  g«  t  rid  of  them  the 
bettor.  When  I  was  a  young  man,  1  th'-ught  .liflVrently.  T'I.-U 
is,  I  didn't  think  at  all.  I  had  a  faith  in  bye.  1  had  a  yir-il.-n 
faith  in  sweetmeats  and  Bngar-pluiUS.  I  liked  girls  and  eonfec 
iionery  ;  and  —  perhaps  you  never  knew  the  fact  before — I 


A\ 
m:irri«-»l   one  V..IHIL:  woman  not   very  much  unlike  your  Mary  Clark- 

"  The  devil  y<>u  did  !  "  exclaimed  the  outlaw. 

"The  devil    I  did    i  :    turned   the  oth- r,   gravely. 

4fl  of  truth  and  'han 

.  il  to  UK*.      1  tru-te.l  her,  like  a  fool  a-  I  fftt,  and  she  abu-ed  me. 
ranofT  \\ilh  i:  In  comany  with  an  Indian  trader, 

whom  I  lock  into  my  cabin,  fed  and  physicked,      i 
opportunity  after  he  :rot  well,  to  empty  my  house  and  rell 

ibles.      Hut  I  didn't  see  the  matter  in  il-  true   liu'nt.      I 
:i't  thankful.      I    gave   Chaw,    and    ir«.t    my  hor-e  hack  —  that 
'iiiiiLr.  p.-rh:ip< — just  after  they  had  left  Au.iruMa." 

1  you  let  tin-  woman  &*.  eh  '.'  " 

"  I  left  IHT  with  him,   v.heiv   I   f.-und  them:  and  they  liked  the 

M)  well,  that  I  think  any  curi-  'hat  would   seek,   miixht 

find  them  there  to  this  day.     I  ha1.  to  lu-licve  that  >h«- 

more  quiet  with  him  than  she  with  me.     1  don't 

er  quarrelled,  and  when  she  was  my  wfl  n  at 

fly." 

,;'re   a    famoii>   fellow,   (Jray'"  exclaimed   (he  outlaw,  a-  he 
IMened  to  a  narrative  of  crime  which  was  only  remarkable,   p-ji 
from  the  eoi.lue.^  with  which  the  chief  actor  r.  !a!t<l  it. 

"No,  captain,  not  famous.     To  he  fan  i  thin^ 

that    I   desin   ;  ami    I'm   thinking  you   don't     much    can-    about    it. 
Hut  you'd  belter  >l.-ep   DOW.     Take  all   the  n-t   \oii  can,   and  don't 

mind  an jthing you  hear.     v«.u'll  want  all  your  Btren 

as  soon  as  \n\\  can  _«.'•  -t  it.  if  you  \\  ish  to  -«  t  \\  ha!  you  aim  at." 

doubt.    I'll  do  as  x  after  the  poor  girl  by 

daylight" 

11    take  all   the   wire   that*  needful,"   was   '. 

DM. 

:    hi-   -uperior.    <Jr;iy    had    taken    a     way 
of   i.  -nicl    one    that    v  I,     The    i 

mind 
which    d.  •ouudcil    prim  I] 

many  gooil  purp-  parried    :  !!•  w 


o  THE   SCOUT. 

:na.iy  clever  minds  have  faltered  in  a  noble  aim  by  the,  saicasnt 
v-f  the  witling  and   the  worldling!     How  difficult  is  it  for  the, 
young  to  withstand  the  curling  lip,  and  the  malignant.  half-*nile 
«f  the  audacious  and  the  vain  !      Gray  knew  his  man  ;    and,  in 
narration,  he  had  probably  shown  a  degree  of  contumelious 
iiriiJlbivnco   to   the   character  of  woman,  and   the  ties  of  love, 
which   lie  did   not  altogether  feel.     It  served   his  turn,  and  this 
all  that  he.  desired  of   any  ageat  nt  any  time.      He,  turned 
from   gazing   on  the  outlaw,  with  siK-h  ;.  smile,  as  showed,  how 
ever  ho  might,  be  disposed  to  toil  in  his  behalf,  he  was  still  able 
to  perceive,  and  to  despise,  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  weak- 
of  the  latter. 

heaving  the  chamber,  he  descended  to  the  area  in  I'K.M  »t 
the  dwelling,  and  drew  together,  without  noise,  the  file  of  sol 
diers  that  had  been  left  with  him  by  Rawdon.  These  wen* 
now  tolerably  sobered  ;  and,  having  taken  pains  to  see  that 
their  arms  were  in  good  condition, — for  it  may  be  said  here 
that  the  smallest  part  of  Gray's  purpose  and  care  was  to  find 
the  girl  whom  it  was  his  avowed  object  to  seek,  —  he  led  them 
forth  into  the  adjoining  thicket  about  an  hour  batbre  the  dawn 
of  day. 

Of  the  reputation  of  Gray  as  a  woodsman  we  have  b«ien 
already  more  than  once  informed,  and  the  suspicions  which  he 
entertained  were  such  as  to  make,  him  address  all  his  capacity 
to  the  contemplated  search.  His  little  stjuad  were  cautioned  with 
respect  to  every  movement;  and,  divided  into  three  parties  of 
four  men  each,  were  sent  forward  to  certain  points,  with  the 
view  to  a  corresponding  advance  of  all,  at  the  same  momen.. 
upon  such  portions  of  the  wonds  as  seemed  most  likely  to  harboj 
an  enemy.  Spreading  themselves  so  as  to  cover  the  gr»-ates' 
extent  of  surface,  yet  riot  be  s»>  remote,  from  ea<-h  ol 
prevent  co-operation,  they  went  forward  under  the  eirenm- 
conduct  of  their  leader,  with  sure  steps,  and  eyes  ib'1'  '"ft  i"> 
Biispici  us  spot  unexamined  on  their  route. 

The  day  was  just  begun.      The   sun,  rising   through   the 
vapory  haze  that  usually  hangs  about    iiiiii  at  the,   begun. i"g  oi 

pathway  in  early  summer,  shed   a   soi'x,  faint  beauty  tip 
gentle  headland   that   jutted   out  upon  the   Conirareu  ami   c   "~i 


pelled  iu  currents  to  turn  .1 

f    like    tli- 

tliirty  steps  In   the   liack^roui:  1  WM   a   rluni]>   ..f   ma.-^ive    I 
the    principal    of    which    \\ere    oak    and 
around  on*1  eminent  pine  that  :-t 

this  tree, 

aiid  under  the  <  ;' the  oaks,  John  Han; 

in  tlirov  rth  lor  tin-  >pot  chn.M-u    1-y  ' 

for  h'  •  at  a  little   di>tai. 

the    hack-iound,  in  his  lap.      The  1. 

,  anni>ter  had   heeii  .,uld   n.-t  MiiVer  the  <dd 

man  him.      The   earth  \\a>   ripd.  and    the   innuinei 

-  of   the  contiguous   trees   traversed,  in    e\-ery    direetion,  tlio 
cliost-n    :  rave.      1'ortunately    the    stmit    \vood.-inan 

had  ,111    axe   a-  v,  ell    as   a    >h«.\'id,  and    th<  ;'  his 

arm  at  length  succeeded  in  the  : 

To  remedy,  a>  f.ir  :iin,  the  worthy 

'}>}»ed  the  rails  from  the  nei;;-hlx.rin-  :'  I  he 

now  1  to  line,  \\ith    them,  the   Imttmn    aip;  :    the 

••  were  in  turn  lined  with  j.lne  hark  ai 

and  the  couch  ,,f  death  was  spread  with  as   much   care  ;»IM: 
derness,   under   t!  dlh    had 

ijpmjrht  r  ,:d  art  had  yie!  :.i<»us 

in  compli.ui.-e  with  the  re<iui>iti<»ns  of  worldly 
Hanni-te;  •,   making    the 

when  ^^"  ,anc»'d  upon  the  j-artv. 

!d    (Mark-  >!i  the  task    had  heen  ,!ch. 

It  was    phy-ieally  im;.  .\hihj 

p    l.uried    and   toilin-    in    the   earth.       The   old    ma;. 
much   ahsorl.ed  in   contemplating  the   p;de  featurt  liild, 

and    too  full  of  the  >trife  \\ithin    his  heart,  to    heed    th. 
from  uit'  .  autious    had  heen    the   app; 

.  that  they  were  r. :  .uld 

from  his    t 
from  his  hurt! 

It  wa<    fbrtUJ  tliat,  hei, 

:  ins'  at  the  tii.  low  the  .-  it!',  and 

it  the    f;... 


S56  THE  SCOUT. 

hearing  strange  voir  as,  lie  immediately  conjectured  the  approach 
of  enemies,  ami  cautiously  peering  above  the  grave,  beheld  at  a 
glance  the  danger  which  threatened  him.  He  saw  Watson  Gray, 
'conspicuous,  and  standing  directly  above  the  person  of  Clarkson, 
whose  daughter's  head  still  lay  in  his  lap.  One  of  his  handn 
was  pressed  upon  her  bosom,  as  if  he  felt  some  apprehension 
that  she  would  be  taken  from  him.  On  cither  hand  of  Gray  he 
beheld  a  group  of  soldiers,  and  a  glance  still  further,  to  the  right 
and  left,  showed  that  they  were  so  placed  as  to  present  them 
selves  on  every  side  between  him  and  the  forest.  His  flight 
seemed  entirely  cut  off.  But  the  coolness  and  courage  of  the 
woodman  did  not  leave  him  in  the  emergency.  He  had  already 
resolved  upon  his  course,  and  rising  rapidly  to  the  surface,  he 
became  visible  to  his  enemies.  The  voice  of  Watson  Gray  was 
heard  at  the  same  instant,  calling  to  him  to  surrender. 

"Good  quarter,  Supple  Jack  ! — be  quiet  and  take  it.  You 
can't  get  off.  You're  surrounded." 

The  tone  of  exultation  in  which  the  rival  scout  addressed  him, 
made  it  a  point  of  honor  with  Bannister  to  reject  his  offer,  even 
if  he  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  assurance  of  safety 
meant  nothing.  He  well  knew,  in  those  days,  what  the  value 
of  such  an  assurance  was ;  for  Tarleton,  Rawdon,  and  Corn- 
wallis,  had  long  since  shown  themselves  singularly  reckless  of 
all  pledges  made  to  "the  poor  bodies  who  were  out"  in  the  re 
bellion  of  '70. 

"Make  terms  when  you've  got  me,  Watson  Gray,"  was  the 
scornful  answer  of  the  scout.  "  The  only  quarters  I  ax  for  is  my 
own,  and  I'll  save  them  when  I've  got  'em." 

"  If  you  run,  I  shoot !"  cried  Gray  threateningly.    "  Look  ;  my 
;;re  all  around  you." 

44  I  reckon  then  I'll  find  'ern  in  the  bottom  of  the  Congaree ;" 
^as  the  fearless  answer,  as  the  scout  leaped  for  the  river  bank 
rv'ith  the  speed  of  an  antelope. 

"Shoot!"    cried   Gray  —  "Shoot  him    as  he  runs!      Fire 
Fire!" 

The  volleys  rang  on  every  side,  but  the  fugitive  remained 
erect.  He  had  reached  the  river  bank.  He  seemed  unhurt, 
His  enemies  pressed  forward  in  pursuit ;  and  the  sc^ut  clapping 


AN    IXIKUVIKW    BE  -    SCOUTS.  357 

plunged  boldly  into  the 
,;ht. 

HamiiMn  could  swim  like  an  otter,  and  with   head  under  wa 
ter  aimOBl  as  l-'flir.      Hut  once  he   rose   to   breathe,  and  his  em- 
t'»r   his    re-appearamv.    with    muskrts    c"ek(-d, 
threw  away  tlu-ir  lire  in  tin1  haMe  with    which  they  strove 

WIuMi  In-  next  became  visible, 

ii  tin-  opj  -.d    hade  them    defiance.      A  hit- 

ter  lau.uh  .•in-werrd  to  their  shout  as  In-  turned  away  slowly  and 

;;ied  in  the  di.-tant  thickets. 

had  lo>t  Ids  mvy  a  sco-ini  time,  and  he  turned,  with  no 
.  humor,  to  the   jirismu-r  with   whom  he  had  been  more  suc- 
,;d. 
"  Wlm  are  you  —  what's  your  name?" 

Jacuh  Clarkson  !" 
'  Ha  !    you  are  then  the  lather  of  this  girl?" 

! "   wu  '  I'O'  ()t  ^1C  (^  man»  as  his  head  sank 

upon  his  li. 

.    know  t!:  "  demanded   Gray,  showing   the 

which  had  heen  found  at  the  hedside  of  Morton. 

••  it  is  mj 

"  Where  did  you  lose,  or  leave  it?" 

"  1  know  not.      I  dropped  it  somewhere  last  night." 

M  \vi,t.lv  —  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Mi.ldlcton  ?" 

"  It  may  !•••  —  1   irafl  there  !" 

"  You  Were  in  the  chamlM-r  of  Captain   Morton!" 

"Not  that  I  know  on,"  was  the  reply. 

1      You   cannot  deceive   me.      You  stood  beside  life 
You  u-ent  there  to  m;n  !.T  him.      'v'<,:ii'e.->  the  truth:  —  did 
voit  ; 

!"  cried  the  old  man,  starting  to  his  feet.  "  I  did  <;.»  there 
lo  murder  a  man,  hut  God  forbid  it.  I  couldn't,  though  he  was 
laying  there  bef'oie  me.  She  come,  between.  She  made  me 
v.'.h-d  him  in  another  moment.  Hut  it  was  Ed 
ward  (.'onway  that  1  would  have  killed.  I  know  nothing  about 
Captain  Morton." 

•Hi!    [  See  tt      Hithe.  .t  Ho/man.     Tie  this  fellow's 

behind  him.'' 


358  TllK    SCOUT. 

"  Iland.s  i.fV!"  cried  the  old  man.  with  a  sudden  sliow  of  figh. 
— "  Hands  off,  1  toll  you  !  I  must  first  put  her  in  the.  ground." 

"(Jive  yourself  i;«>  trouble  about  that.  We'll  see  it  done," 
said  Gray. 

"  I  must  see  it  too,"  said  the  old   man  resolutely. 

The  resolution  lie  expressed  would  have  been  idle,  enough  had 
(Iray  been  disposed  to  enforce  hi-  wi.shes  ;  but  a  few  moments' 
reflection  induced  him,  as  no  evil  consequence  could  possibly  (Mi- 
sue  from  the  indulgence,  to  yield  in  this  respect  to  the  prisoner. 

"The  old  rascal!"  he  exclaimed  —  "let  him  stay.  It's  per 
haps  only  natural  that  he  should  wish  to  see  it ;  and  as  they  have 
got  the  grave  ready,  put  her  in  at  once." 

"  Stay  !"  said  the  father,  as  they  were  about  to  lift  the  body. 
«  Slav  ! —  >:  ly  for  a  minute!"  and  while,  the  soldiers,  more  in 
dulgent  perhaps  than  their  leader,  gave  back  at  his  solicitation, 
the  father  sank  to  the  ground  beside  her,  and  the  tones  of  his 
muttered  farewell,  mingled  with  his  prayer  —  though  the  words 
were  undistinguishable  —  were,  yet  audible  to  the  bystanders. 

"Now,  I'm  readv,"  said  he,  rising  to  his  feet.  "Lay  her 
down,  and  you  may  tie  me-  as  so<m  after  as  you  pl<  . 

The  burial  was  shortly  over.  Xo  other  prayer  was  said. 
Old  Clarkson  Matched  the  Millen  ceremonial  to  its  completion, 
and  was  finally,  without  struggle  or  sign  of  discontent,  home 
iway  a  prisoner  by  his  inflexible  captor. 


UUM1  NTS. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

GLIMrSES    OP    '  - 


THK   out]  .  'i  dc.-ith   with  •:•» 

Annie  emotior  j 
soon    shook    himself  free   from    : 

10111  danger   from  the  hands  of  |J 

imeet.'d    with    his    proceeding,  Watson  Gra; 
•  liis  principal   to  know  anything.     His  main    ohje 

.tient  up   and  on  his  legs  again,  lurcsccii:^-  that  a 
ipproaching,  when-  a  Kirk  ln-d  cunld  lio  no  scruritv  fi.rrr'u*r 
i.'i  a  region  to  he  so  shortly  winn..\ved  witli  th< 

ills   scouts   occasionally    arrived,  hrin^in^   liim    re- 
!:di'.i')!i  of  the  country:   if  the  pr«'.-j 

-  army,    and  of  the    several    smaller   hodics    under   Greene, 
ter,  Ma-i.m,  and  I'ickens. 

'•onns^lled  him  t»»  make  all  speed.      He  did  not 
Outlaw   .^ith    the   intelligence  \\hich  he   thus  ,,1,  tailed, 
mi^ht  he  to  increase  his  anxiety,  and 
'          t    ,.!i    pi-Mmote    his   cure.      To  this    one 

.  en,  without  stint  or  interruption, 
1     '    ;    :  •      I    •          IT10  taken,  and  every  mea>nre  ad 

his  patient  mi-'ht   I  ;.      N<.    : 

•  «-n  m.)i-e  devoted,  no    phy>ician    nmre  ciicurn^ 

wati-hful.      The  late  attempts  of  (Mark^.n  ha.l 
.aean  opinion  of  the  regulars  who  lia.i    !  r 
the  l-arony  ;     and  to  \vatch   I  irk- 

B,  yet  necessary  duty,  which    he   had    nndertak*  n.      Hi, 

•  to  his  tasks  cheerfully,  and,  with  this  spirit,  a  strong   man 

•y  thing. 

'i'ln-  tidings  whirl;  \veiv  'initted  to  n-acli  tl. 

•  I    Plow    M;-dleton,    u  ere  of  no  incon-idera)  S 


30C  :  SCOUT. 

maiden      Slu-  Luard  frequently  of  Clarence  Conway,  and  ahv.%  % 
favorably.      Xo\v  lie.  was  harassing  the  tones  on  the  upper  Sa- 
ludii,  and  now  driving  them  before  him  into  the  meshes  of  Pick 
ens  among  the  Unacaya  mountains.     The  las^tidings  in  respect 
to  him  which  reached  her  ears,  were,  also  made  known  to  Wat 
son  Gray  by  one  of  his  runners;    and  were  of  more  particuhu 
importance  tc  1    th  of  then,  thai;  they  v,  ere  then  fully  aware  of 
It  was  .reported  that  a  severe  fight  had  taken  place  hetween 
iilr.es  an-!  the  Black  Riders.     The  latter  were  l>e- 
•  hit"  an  ami  rsa  which  Conway  had  devised,  after  the  ur- 
;y  Indi;  •  .  In  the  form  of  a  triangle,  in  which  t  \ven- 

!.rec  of  the  Black  Eiders  were  sal  reft,  ami  the  rest  dispersed. 
y  did  hot  greatly  regret  this  disaster.     He  was  now  anxious 
fo  be  free  of  the  connection,  and,  perhaps,  he  conceived   this 
:.e  of  getting  rid  of  them,  to  be  quite  as  eligible,  and,  cei- 

.  ,  as  effectual  as  any  other. 

"  That  fellow,  Stockton,  with  his  sly  second,  Darcy,  are  the 
only  chaps  that  might  trouble  us.     They  suspect  us  ;   ;! 

.thing,  perhaps;  and  if  Conway  has  only  cut  them  up, 
along  with  the  twenty-three,  we  shall  count  him  as  goou  an  al 
ly  as  the  best." 

Such  was  his  only  reflection  as  he  communicated  tiiis  news  to 
the  outlaw,  his  principal. 

"  Ay,"  replied  the  latter,  "  hut  why  was  there  no  lucky  1  ulle' 
to  reward  the  conqueror.     That  hopeful  liotber  of  mi. 
to  own  a  charmed  life,  indeed.     J  know  that  he  £9P£  into  the 
thick  of  it  always,  yet  lie  seldom  gets  even  his  win.*,  -rs  sit: 
The  devil  takes  care  of  him  surely.     He  has  proper  L'i.-.id;.  MI 
that  quarter." 

"  We  needn't  care   for  him,  captain,  so  long  as   R:.wd">n  lie.-, 
between  us.     If  you  were  only  up  now,  and  able,  we  coaK  wlr'p 
off  the  lady,  and  every  hair  of  a  negro,  and  take  shipping  be 
fore  they  could  say  Jack  Robinson,  or  guess  what  we   are  dri 
vinir  at." 

"Ay,  if  I  were  only  up!"  groaned  the  outlaw  writhing  upon 
his  couch.     "But  that  '  if  is  the  all  and  everything." 

"But  you  are  better.      You  ar<>   much   stronger.     I  think  thih 
last  week  has  done  wonders  for  you  ;   and.  but  for  the  weakness 


1  without 
ibhiug  the  » 

•  \". •:  v  •<  mely,  in*   (louht  :   they  will  rably, 

you  not  think  1)1  -y  iinprov--  nderfullv 

The:.  i'  l.itterness  ill  the  aflected  iinlitV. 

with  which  the  outlaw  made  "his  comment.     The  other  made  no 
it'ply.  and  did  not  appear  t«:  '.eed  the  tone  of  complaint. 

»•  me  th.  'inned  the  outlaw. 

He  o  :!ic  mirror  was  put   into  his  hands,  and  he 

•  rutiny. 

BT    all.      My    mouth    is    something 

.  hut  that  will  ;  :i:y  musical   ahility.      I    shall  l»e 

r   aiilc  to  sing'lhiil  Hritamiia,'  iu   his  majesty's   i.-l;;i'd  o{' 

.lea.   i-i-   the   '.  .M    liernnmthrs,1   to   one   or  other  of 

•  cur  way.      1'  !-.  of 

the  tui.:/,  wl.  :  c-nrc  ?     _I  shall  he  no  longer  in   the   mar- 

^ife  is  in  duty  hound  to  think    me   comely.      Kli, 
»y  ?" 

A.!'.--  Middle-ton  don't  seem  to  be  0 

.i't  y«-u  l-dieve  it,  M:ay.      She's  a  woman  liki 

'  \'  looks.      Bmootb   flowing  locks,  I-'L:,  lm>hv  \ 
kcis,  and  a  1'old,  de;ith-deiying  face  \\ill  do  much  ann-: 
ment  of  women.     I've  known  many  a  M-iiMhle  woman  — 
I  mean  for  the  sex — seek    a    fool    simply  ;  •    • 

•  unapproachable 

thei:  .  l.y  no  me; 

. 

t  il    :is    likely  to   attend    {].> 
.  -.    if  it    1  e    iMiipled    \\ith    a    goi..!    v'- 
audacity.*1 

"  The   notion   is   mcou; 
Komrihini:  in  it  —  though  I  ne\cr  th" 

,i  truth  founded  up..-      i    • 
ity  and  i!       ', 

"  Yes  :  the  snake  wus  a>:  I -old  and  subtle  as  he  was  \ 

if 


TIU-: 

am!  subtleness,  reconciled  th.- 
once  reconciled,  to  behold  without  loa*lm>'j 
a   hi-.-siity  in   his  very  ugliness.      If  TO'   handsom",  thnvfniv 
hide  -Mil  wish   to  succeed  witi-    vcTnan  • — the  nii-re  hide 

-he  wit  and  audacity  not  being  wanting)  the  more  like! 
".cressful.     The   game  wen  .-ire  if,   to  the  wit  anc. 

boldness,  you   c-.,uld  add  some  >  wealth  or  n  .- 

liility  l'«>r  example.    A  title,  itself,  >  a  thing  of  very  great  beauty. 
Now  were  I  a  lord  or  baronet —  r  marquis  —  you  n. 

.-dash  my  cheeks  with  half  a  sco-t,  n.oie,  of  such  gashes  as  t! 
and   they  would,  in   no  degree,  a;!e  .:    :r.y  fortune  with   tin1   fail 
In  that  is  my  hope.      I  must  buy  a  t  -on  as  I   \\s\\\ 

[>ri/e,  and  then  all  objections  will  disupptr.r.     Still,  I  could  ha.-* 
wished  that  that  d — d  spiteful  brotbe.i   \"  -r«inc  1;«"(1  subi- 
to  no  such   necessity.      He  might  have  i-.l-:1--  •:  '  in  -n-  '. : 
gratified  himself  <juite  as  much  in  thoM.-  (juai 'LVS.'' 
"Let  us  carry  out  our  project,  and  you  have  you. 
"Av,   and   there's   consolation    in    that    for   worse    liun- 
tliese.      Hut    hear   you    nothing   yet    fn    D    lelor:  /      What    from 
1'ete  I      If  the  boats   fail   us   at   the  pn  ^er  lir. .e,  we  shall  be   in 
an  ugly  fix." 

"They  will  not  fail  us.     Everything  now  depends  on  you.    If 

you  can  stir  when  the  time  comes '' 

"Stir  —  I  can  stir  now.      I  mean  to  try  my  limbs  before  the 
week's  out,  for,  as  the  fair  Flora  forbears  to  come  and  see 
I    shall   certainly  make  an   effort   to  go  and  see  her.     Has  the 
n    touched,  think  you  (      Does    she    feel    it  —  does   she,   bc- 
i<  ?" 
'I  k<    (  ~tlaw  referred  to  the  slander  which  Gray  had  insinuated 

1  onway. 

doubt.  She's  so  proud  that  there's  no  telling  where  it 
hurts  Li  ••-  ami  she'll  never  tell  herself;  but  I  know  from  the 
(lashii'r  -i  li.-  ''  .  I  said  what  I  did  about  Colonel  Con 

way  and  Mary  Clark  on,  that  she  believed  and  felt  it.     Besides 
.in.  1  must  tell  y-   i,  that  she's  asked  after  you  more  kiudlj 
^.id  more  frequently  of  \-u-«.      She  al\\'a\">  ask>  " 
•:Ha!   that's  a  goo*]  Big  ;  ;    well  .'" 
44 1  yaid  you  were  m.ue  K\'I  »ppy  than  sick.     That  you'd  got 


363 

'  arts,  I  had  no  dotiht.     But  then,  I  told  her  what 
•A  ful  tiling  to  fight    with    one's   hro'her,  and  how  m\\z\i  you 
felt  // 

-  I  la  I      Well,  and  thru  .;" 

-  She  >;;J;ed,  hut  said  nothing  more,  and   soon  after  went    >'il 

m." 

ell  planted.      I    shall   cultivate  the  plant  care, 
fullv.      I  fancy   I  can  manage  tl 

","   >aid   (i  ray,  interrupting  him 
Mr.  IlilllxMiM-  appeared  at  the  entrance. 
.•on   had  ..'ven,  the   slight   to  which 

:;ljected  him.      He  wa»  not  a  p< 

In    rei  <  :m;ii!stance  which  might  he  likely  to  disj^ir- 

liiin  in  hi>  own  esteem      !'•«  -ides,  his  head  was  now  runnrig 
upon  a  project  which   made  him  disposed  to  smile  upon  all  D 
kind.      We  will  allow  him  to  explain  his  own  f'aiu  :- 

••Mi.  d  morning.      1  trust  you  feel  hetter. 

es  show  it,  and  your  color  is  warming;  — 
;ir  Idood  is  beginning  to  circulate   e<|iially  tlimngh 
your  >ystem.       -  me  (<>  examine  your  pu: 

I    trust   to  get  fairly  out  of   my 
lair  in  a  week.      1  shall  mak  --rate  attempt  to  d" 

"You   (in    hetter.  >ir  ;    hut    do   nothing   rashly.      A  week  may 
j>rM<:  :Its.      There  are  hut  seven  days  in  a  week,  Mr 

Conway  —  hut    a    poor    seven    days  —  yet    how    many    event  — 
-how  many  d<  ood  and  evil,  lie  in  that 

time.      All!    I  ha\'  ;v  this  from   the  hottom 

A  week  here,  sir,  at  this  harony,  has  changed  the 
who!<  !'  my  life."      A  sigli  followed  this  speech. 

"  li  \nd  how  so.  p. 

in    m<>.  Mr.  Conway,  a   man  who  has   lived  a 

pace  of  tiling     In  the  language  of  the  ancient 
• — Ovid,  it  is  —  my  life  is  to   l,e  told   hy  events,  and  n<  ' 

It    is  a   hi...k    criiw-led    \\ith    events.      1    have 

•iii-iiugh    all    tl.-  .    long   life    in    Kun-pe. 

t.      I  have  ate  and  drank,  marched  and  foughi 

—  p'  man  of  j  md    the  man  of  In: 

in  my  fri.  my  own  ; — saved 


3G4  TIN:  SCOUT. 

life,  taken  life;  and  practised,  suffered  and  enjoyed  all  thin. 
thoughts  and  performances,  Which  are  usually /only  to  be  known  t<> 
various  men  in  various  situations.  But,  >ir,  one  humbling  accident 
—  the  trying  event  Which  usually  occurs  to  every  other  man  at  ;ui 
early  period  of  his  life,  has  hitherto,  by  the  special  favor  of  a  beniirn 
providence,  been  withheld  from  mine  !" 

"Ah,  sir,  and  what  may  that  In-  ?  "  demanded  the  outlaw. 

"  I  have  never  loved,  sir — till  $ow.     Never  known  the  pan."-  :.nd 
the  prostration — the  hope  and  the  fear  —the  doubt  and  the  desire- 
till  the  fates  cast  me  upon  the  banks  of  the   ('ongaive  !    Melancholy 
conviction!  that  he  who  has  survived   the  charms  of    Ki;r<>pe  and 
India  —  who  has  passed  through  the  temptations  of  the  noble  and  the 
beautiful,  the  wealthy  and  the  vain,   of  th'>>c   brguili;' 
should  here  be  overtaken  and  overcome  by  the  enemy  in  the  wild 
woods  of  America." 

''Indeed  !    It  is  indeed  a  most  dreadful  catastrophe  :    (I ray.   hand 
the  doctor  a  chair,  a  glass  of  water,  and  if  you  have  any  .Jamaica— 

"  No,  no  !  —  I  thank  you,  no  !    -  1  will  take  tin-  chair  only." 

"And  pray,  sir,  "said  the  outlaw  with  a  mock  interest  in  the  sub 
ject —  "  when  did  you  suffer  from  the  first  attack,  and  who  do  you 

suspect  of  bewitching  you  ?" 

"Suspect  of  bewitching  me!-- -a  good    phrase   th:,i  '. —  I   like  it. 
My  suspicions,  sir,  as  well  as  yours,  should  naturally  lie  strong  that 
I  am  the  victim  of  a  sort  of  witchcraft  ;  for,  how  else  should  a  man 
fall  so  suddenly  and  strangely  in  a  strange  land,   who  has  stc 
shaken  by  such  affections,  through  such  a  life  a^  mine  ?" 

"  Very  true  !  a  very  natural  r<  lied  ion  sir.      Hut  you  have  n< 
who  you  su-ped.  of  this  cruel  busin< 

"  Ah,  sir,  who  but  the  fair  damsel  of  this  very  house.      What    wo 
man  is  there  like  unto  her  in  all  the  land  ?  " 

"  Ha  !     Is  it  pu^iblc  !" 

"Possible! — why  not  possible?"  demanded   the  BUrgi 
she  not  young,  and  fair,  and  rich  in  goods  and  cluti.-ls,   and   who  so 
likely  to  practice  son 

"True,  true!— but    doctor,   are    you   auare  that  you  a: 


Ihr  only  victi;  :  with   perhaps   ^reater  ni 

filler-." 

11  Indeed  !  Tell  inc.  I  pray  you  Mr  :  " 
kk    fr«  ni    1: 

: 

I    must    n-fcr    y<  11    to  him.     (Iray,   taken  ramble   with    Mr.    Ilill- 
if  you  cannot  match  his  witchcra! 

.  than  his  o\vr..  ami  sprinirini:  from  the 

•    fruitf  il  -  :ii<chief.      Let  him  >ec  i hat  he  dur^   not   lack 

•npathy." 

U    the   hint,   ami   th-  r--a«lily    aee«'ple«l    i: 

vitation   to  a  walk,  in   ^hieh   the   former  i-.»ntinunl    1 

,     succinct    account     of    the    duel    bet \ve.n    tin- 

brothi]-..     and    tin  n!     Mij'jio^ed     to     ]•„•     existing     between 

Clarence    and     Flora.        The    artful    confederate     of     the    outlaw, 
taking    it    for    granted    that   a  person  BO  suj^reinely  vain  and  silly 
:i,     miirlit    l>e     made  to  believe    anything,    and  < 

'.hat     lie     lieard.      arraii^.'d      his     materials 

;eh  a    way   as    to   make   il   appi-ar  that    the    ,i-ht    between    the 

Cruel  I'lm-nt      which 

n     had     r-  •     the  haiuU  of    the  yoini'ji  r.       A 

:!.iinous    motive    led     the    eld.  :    in;,,  tliedif- 

Ity. 

NIr.    Conway,    your    patient,    as   soon  a-    he    heard    that 

-el  Comvay  \\a^  ciujrtii.  iMdleton.   pursued  liim,   only 

•   ;•  hi-  breach  •  f  promise  »•  •  the  |         •       Mire. 

'••niach   of    •  '-ouldn't     bear   that,   and 

flrew    npi'ii    Mr  and   wounded   him   in  th- 

;    put    him-elf    in    preparation.     Ti.  \\  ho   had 

i    l'oi!o\\  iu.r  |]u.  cul, ,ncl.   e\cry\\  here,    in 
;i    them,    and  di-ath,     tli<  re's     no    t«-l!in.«r    bj 

i 

. 

the  i:  tweeo  him  a  i  unlos 

1     her     mind  tlu- 

':V." 

Mr     ^;i!-m  Gray.     I'm  |  ,  ,u  are  a 


3G6'  Tin:  SCOUT. 

man  <•[  sense.  I  thank  you  sir — I  thank  you  very  niueli.  Sup- 
e  return  to  the  mansion.  I  am  anxious  1o  change  those 
garments." 

"  Change  them,  sir!  What,  your  il: 

The  blunt  mfnd  of  Gray  couldn't  perceive  tin-  association  of  ideas 
taking  place  in  the1  bruin  of  his  companion. 

'  Yes,  I  wish  to  put  on  a  dove-colored  suit.  The  divss  which  I 
now  wear,  docs  not  suit  the  day,  the  circumstances,  nor  my  pivsi-nt 
feelings." 

"AYhat,  sir  ?  "  demanded  (Jray  in  feigned  astonisliment.  "  I  lave 
you  got  a  change  for  every  day  in  the  week  ?  I  have  but  cue  change 
in  all. 

The  surgeon  turned  upon  the  sneaker  with  a  look  which  plainly 
said  : — 

"Impertinent  fellow,  to  venture  upon  such  an  offensive  com 
parison." 

He  contented  himself,  however,  with  remarking:— 

"  The  wants  of  men,  my  good  friend,  differ  according  to  1!i.  ir 
moral  natures,  the  moods,  and  changes  of  mind  by  which  they 
are  governed.  I  have  no  doubt  that  two  sui'.s  will  he  ample 
enough  for  your  purposes;  bnt  lor  me,  I  have  always  striven  to 
make  my  costume  correspond  with  the  particular  feeling  which 
affects  me.  My  feelings  are  classed  under  different  heads  and 
orders,  which  have  their  subdivisions  in  turn,  according  to  the 
.  quality  and  strength  of  my  several  sensibilities.  Of  the 
first  orders  there  are  l\vo  —  pleasure  and  pain;  under  these* 
heads  COHie  cheerfulness  and  sadness;  1he-e  in  turn  have  their 
•--  and  qualities- — under  the  tirst  is  hope,  under  the  second, 
fear  then  there  are  boijbts  and  dexiivs  which  follow  these; 
and  after  all,  I  have  omitted  many  still  nicer  divisions  which  1  doubt 
If  you  could  well  appreciate.  1  have  not  spoken  of  love  ami  hat< — 
nor  indeed  of  any  of  the  more  positive  and  emph;;'  -  —  but 

for  all  of  which  I  have  been  Ion-  provided  with  a  suitalr 

costume." 

• 

"Ton   don't    mean   to  say  tint  -t   a  change  suitable 

for  every  on*-  of  these?*1    said   the  woodman  with  some  astonish 
ment 

"You   inquire,  Mr.   Gray,   with   the  lone  of   one    who  will    not 


BffT 

^ing 

•  this 

it  of  mental  occupation,  with  whicli  I  relieve 

i.'l  had  weather,  and  unpleasant  ant!' 

i In1    f'f  '-t  mo  in  this  examination.      We 

/nay  pn-l  ;.er  from    it  SOIMO  useful  and   1  will  »-n- 

plain.   what    is  at    present   very   imperfectly  under- 

prineiples.      You   shall    he 

•u  have  heard  my  explanation,  to   know,  from   the 
what    particular  condition    I    am    in    that   dav.      A 
man's  c.vtum.  it  of  pulse  for  his  t«-m- 

:  I       *e,  und.-r  the  influence  of  on, 

[   pat  on    a   meditation    costume.      I    am   in   a  In-own 

That    shows    that,  when    I    put    it    on,  I  was   in 

wha-  .ily  called    a    •  1-rown    study.'      Circumstances,   the 

;nl   of  which    ymi   can    not,  perhaps,  conjecture,  prompt   me 

•>-k    and    <  •    for  one   of  a  dove  color.      You  may 

perhaps  comprehend  the  meaning  of  this  hereafter. 

ftbont    love,  that    dove    odm. 
•IIP!   h.\v  al\\  . 

quick.      You  are  naturally  an  intelligent  p 
You  will  comprehend   sooner  than   I  expected.      Hut 

"  This  f ">1  will  do  us  excellent  ser\  ice,"  said  the  outlaw,  when, 

at  his  return.  V  -ted  tlie  event-  .«f  tlie  intorviow. 

tO    Fl"i-a    Middleton    in    his    dovt'-colore.i    sniall- 

l"f'  •    "t    lettiiiLr  her   know  what   a   scamp 

•  iid    what    a    martyr    1    hare'    l-een   to  the 

Innocence  hetrayed.      Von  did  not  lr;  '.at  1 

h;ul  ;i  hai  kerii:  j 

I  jii.-t  let    him   kn  .    .f  ;!,,.  truth  to  lie 

do  an  immei  p  irh  the 

1    a  truth." 

•  \Vrl1    mis- 
!      •' 
f"»-  Mm    kill    (  (  'niiwav  oil  in  her  estr 

If    not    the    tl.i:i«;    tn    he    afraid    of.      Hut 
really  count  h 


Tin:  -.  OUT, 

"  No,  God  help  me  !  I  shook  myself  free  from  him  as  soor 
as  I  could.  IM  as  soon  pry  among  the  petticoats  of  my  grand- 
mothers.  But  he  hail  an  enormous  quantity.  I  reckon  lie's  u*o«i 
up  all  his  pay,  ever  since  ho  began,  in  this  sort  of  childishness." 

The  conjectures  of  the  outlaw,  as  respects  the  course  of  the 
lisite,  were  .-non  realised.  But  a  few  clays  had  elapsed 
when  he  availed  himself  of  an  opportunity  to  pursue  Flora  RF 
jaw  her  taking  her  way  through  the  grounds  in  the  direction 
of  the  river.  His  toilet,  however,  was  not  completed  when  h<- 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  person  through  the  window  ;  and  the, 
task  of  completing  it  —  always  one  of  considerable  pains  and 
duration  —  enabled  her  to  get  considerably  the  start  of  him. 
She  had  passed  the  sentinels,  who  were  sauntering  at  their  sta 
tions,  and  had  reached  the  lonely  vault  whore  her  ancestors 
reposed.  The  solemn  shadows  of  the  wood  by  which  it  was 
encircled  pleased  her  fancy  ;  and  the  united  murmurs  of  the 
pine-tops  and  the  waters  of  the  Congaree,  as  they  hurried  on  at 
a  little  distance  below,  beguiled  her  thoughts  into  the  sweet 
p.bodes  of  youthful  meditation. 

Flora  Middlcton  was,  as  we  have  endeavored  to  show,  a 
maiden  of  deeper  character  and  firm  or  <[ual:ti,'  than  usually 
distinguish  her  age;  perhaps,  indeed,  these  characteristics  are 
not  often  possessed  in  equal  degree  among  her  sex.  Firmness 
haractcr  usually  implies  a  largo  share  of  cheerfulness  and 
elasticity  ;  and  these  also  won'  attributes  of  her  mind.  Her 
life,  so  far,  had  been  free  from  much  trial.  She  had  seldom 
been  doomed  to  suffering.  Now,  for  almost  the  first  time,  the 
•  •f  the.  Invirt  gathered  around  her,  making  her  feet  to 
falter,  and  bringing  the  tears  into  her  eyes.  The  supposed 
infidelity  of  (.Marence  ('onway  bad  touched  her  deeply  —  more 
deeply  than  even  she  hail  at  first  apprehended.  When  she 
first  beard  the  accusation  against  him,  and  saw  the  wretched 
'ri'Mi  of  the  poor  girl  whom  she  believed  to  be  destroyed  hy 
his  profligacy,  she  said,  in  the  fervor  of  virtuous  indignation 
which  prevailed  in  her  mind:  — 

"I  will  shake  him  of.'  for  ever,  and   forgot  that    I   ever  knew 
him  !" 

But  the  resolution  was  more  easily  taken  than  kept.     Each 


OHM 

tin-  dilliculties  <.f  such  a  rcsolu- 

:  •  be 

Perhaps,  but   f'"i-  ' 

iia\ .  ! 

il>t,  mist: 
-who   dare  not  rej.-ct   t: 

U)  love. 

n  frit  tiir  vain  ..f  tin   sacrifice  the  nv 
ju'Mice    of   the    iOUVlCtkm,  wHdl    her   }>r;-  cip:. 
up<  :  t   it  mii.^t  yet  bo  made.     CcuM 

\\itli  her  jjr'nle  and  her  'jri'-ciMlos,  slie  would  net  1:  ,  '  the 

late. 

•  N        :  in-  niiinui.rr'l    to   hcrticlf,  as  all  th« 

of   I  ..navrd    before    !:.-rby  tlic  aiVectid)"  — "  .' 

th'-u-h    it    kill    me    to    say    the    words,    yet     I    v 

.  we  arc  .-•;  idert  •'  —  i  II 

ini--ht  have  borne  much,  and  wit 
but  not  this.     Thi- 

,r." 
She  \va>   suddenly  ftai'tli-tl    fr-i:::  "iatj'iis    by  a   slight 

•lr  at  a  little  tli-tance.      This  was  1^11,. wed  ny 
••  i  t>  the  gentle  suinmons  that  demanded  her  attcn- 

D   the   thicket  on   the   river-bank-  inrnnl  in 

tion  of   the  ^PMU:.'.  ;'r«'inj»te«l 

to  fly ;  br.-  •  mind  em'1 

advance''.  the    sjxit  whence    the    sun;:. 

hed,  a  head,  and  then  I 
(it  n  :  '  f  from  th 

;   and  a  p]  .-.iximatioii   proved   thr  to  be  an 

".lolin   ! 

"V---.  M'.--    PI   i,..  i — what's  left  of  him." 

left  of  him,'  Jolm  !     Why,  what's   the 

matt-  u  hurt  I" 


•1/0  •          THE    SCOUT. 

11  N»i.  u«>,  Miss  Flora — I  say  'what1.-  leii  >1  ne  .]y  *ot 
cause,  you  sec,  I  don1'  :  I  .-.in  ali<>gother  .-, 

when  I  have  to  dodge  ami  >hirk  ah-nit,  not  able  to  i;m: 
friends,  und  always  in  a  sort  of  scatteraHon  of  limbs,  for 
that  my  enemies  will  find  inc.  I  am  pretty  veil  to  do  in  1; 
at  tlim  present  thanks  he  to  G-«d  f«-r  all  hks  rnarcies  ;  tin 
\vlicj.  you  saw  me  last,  I  reckon  you  thought  I  was  m  ri  h.-m 
fi*  i3iit  I  give  Yin  the  slip  handsomely  in-:'  -.SPO  Ml«!T  -»\v;i 

iii  coming  oft".'' 

"How  was  it,  Bannister?  .  .  .  But   come 
'ng  rather  uncomfortably  there." 

.-•.It',  thank   ye.     T).3re's    t    «lr£-  lei  me 

a;,.    .\  ;    I've    <>;,!"  a  \VOIM   <  r  t  ,vo  *.f.    say.  T    Ptedr.':   t,it   up  ;tr.v 
liigiij-.  ;<>  s.-«y  it." 

"  Well,  as   y<>i>    please;    hr.t  VK  \v  ci-.i   you  nake  your  escaj  t- 

IH    ::.ritish,  John  ?" 

"  .\ii  th.ti'o  ;\  long  story  ]\Iiss  Flora,  and  there's  no  needces- 
bi:y  I'M  ti  .ling  M,  .my  how.  3r.n?  other  time,  when  the  war's 
over,  ;-j,:l  vvi  i  v  \-e  a  hit.  without  danger,  I'll  let. 

you   kii'..  '  '.'it  jest   7iow,  what    I   come  for 

i.--  ;     ^;iv0  yo'\-.--     ..     -.*.       ."    .  ' .'     got  a  sly  rascal  as  ever  lived  in 
your  house,  at  tlrs  presem,  t,.-it  never  yet  w;is  in  any  one  place. 

so  long  without  ;tr.  -g  mischief — one  Watx.n  C»ray " 

"  Why,  he's  attending  on  Mr.  On  way." 

"  It's  a    pair  on  'em,  I    tell   you.      That  Wat><m    (Iray's  aftei 
mischief,  and    it's   a  mischief  that  has   you  in  it.      Hut   don't 
scared.      I  want  to  let  you  know  that  there's  one,  friend   alv, 
at  your  sarvice,  and  nigh  enough  to  have  a  hand  in  any  hns! 
that  coiksarns  his  friends.      If  anything  happens,  do  yon  see.  jest 
you  hang  a  slip  of  white,  stuff — any  old  rag  of  a  dress  or  hand 
kerchief —  on  this  hlufl*  here,  jest  where    you    see    me.   standing, 
and  I'll  see  it  hefore  you've  gone  fur,  or  I'm  no  scout  lit  for  the 
Congaree.      Kf  there's  danger  to  you,  there's  help  too;    and. 
far  as  the  help  of   a  good  rille  and    a  strong   arm    can    go  —  and 
I    may    say,    Miss   Flora,   without    familiarity,   a   good    friend  — 
lang  my  btlttOllfl  ef  you  sha'n't  have  it." 

"  Hut,  .John,  from  what  quarter  is  this  danger  to  come  /     What 
to  it  f  how  will  it  COMHJ  l" 


371 

^ 

HIII     ti        'i —  •  'hat's 

hrn  In-  ti"  carry  oft"  i.uu-li  : 

u  or  the 
(!••'>.  about  my  1  .-ft.  but 

•  ut  fiiaji.  j»oor  f,d- 
!  »W,  you  can  trust  him.  Kf 
••.  Hi'  In  then 

'.     tL       :"-\l    lie    Seems    tO     he    Wolk- 

•in  him.     Yen 
;  lan,     I  tea    him   to  a 

;  of  the  truth  of  lit  t    I   had  to  mal 

turn  elieve.     We  had  two  _ 

:    1  ut  I  tiiiow'd  liiin  the  Insl  time,  ami 
the   tr;;th    cvrr  snu-c.      '  !      Lfl    him    thai 
hcljic'l    i.*,.   out   of   the   liritish    clutches   t'other   day.      Hut 

t    talk  of  that.      Only  you  je>t    helieve    him,  and    han^   out 
the  white*  ihi£,  here  under  the  hlufT,  ef  rvi-r  you  need  a  friend '.•» 

"  v  ' md  and  confuse  me  only,, I. dm  Hanni>ter,  hy  what 

.      I  !. elieve  that  you  mean  me  well,  and  that 
t'link  the.  iger;  and  I  am  willing  to  tru.st  you.      liut 

i't  like  tbk  half-confidence.      Sj.eak  out  jilainly.      What  am 
'       1  am  a  woman,  it's  true,  hut   I  am    imt  a  coward.      I 
think  I  can  hear  the   very  worst,  and   think    ah.,ut  it  with  toler- 
••t1'!'1  •  I  ward  ;    i',\  what,  j.erhaj.s,  in  J 

"  !-'  •!••''    love    y.  .11.  M;  to    t(dl    you  the  litthv 

*'"•"•  that    niak.  it    know  when    he'.s  .,n 

"fan  in'.iuy,  you'd    mout-he  only  lau^h.      You  wouldn't  he- 
•il'ln't    on.lerstaml.      No.    QO|    jetl    you    keep 
•••h  f..r  tl.i 
i!  know  there'  u   ,,,Ul.l,  , 

B   anything  onderhand   ^oin^  "M  —  scouts  run- 
;ts  running  that,  and  \Y  the 

:  ;dl  .•:!•;  bo*}  -—then  yon  may  kn-.w  hrimstom»'s  ^ 

'irn.  and  g 

";tlnr  ^  hi;n    afon-   all.      llr'>  a  running 


372  >UT. 

•  •lit   tli  .t    knows  !;"W  to    hide  under  a  green  Lu:,h,  aad  iuuk 
the  \  allow  How'i  tL  a  b'lungs  to  it" 

••  V     ,  said  something  about  Mr.  Conwa;,  — Mr.  Kdw«ud  Coil- 
.  -John  /" 

He'.-,  another  sarpent.     Bu* " 

The  head  of  tlu-.  .scout  sank  below  the  bank.     He  had  disap- 
|K  a;  were,  in  the  liolti.r.i  of  the  river;   and  uhile  Flora 

MiddletOll    trembled    from    a]  'o1.,  lest    he   had   Mink 

the,  stream,  she,  was   relieved   by  the  accents  of  a  voice  n  s«.);ie 
littli-  distance  behind  her,  as  of  one  Approaching  -.Tom  the  L. 
She    turned  to   encountei    ^\Ir.  Surgeon   KillLouse,  now,  in   Lis 
dove-colored  small-clothes. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

THK    KKTIK.\    OF    THE    BLACK    RIDERS. 

THK  reader  is  already  familiar  with  the  business  of  the  sur 
geon,  and  has  probably  conjectured  the  sort  of  answer  which  he 
:ved  from  the  heiress  of  Middleton  Harony.  His  d«  \  »•- 
colored  garments,  and  rose-colur  address,  availed  him  little  ; 
though,  it  may  be  added,  such  was  the  fortunate  self-eomplai- 
JC  of  the  suitor,  that,  when  he  retired  from  the  field,  he  was 
r^ill  in  considerable  doubt  of  the  nature  of  the  answer  which  In- 
had  received.  It  was  still  a  question  in  his  mind  whether  he 
li.-i'l  I. ci-ii  refused  or  not. 

According  to  his  usual  modes  of  thinking,  his  doubts  were 
reasonable  enough.  He  had  taken  more  than  ordinary  pains  to 
perfect  liimxdf  in  the  form  of  application  which  he  intended  to 
Jlis  line  sayings  had  Keen  conned  with  great  circumspec 
tion,  and  got  by  rote  with  the  persevering  diligence  of  a  school 
boy  or  a  parrot.  lie  had  prepared  himself  to  say  a  hundred 
handsome  phrases.  The  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  the  various 
odors  of  the.  ilowers,  had  been  made  to  mingle  in  a  delicate 
adaptation  to  his  particular  parts  of  speech,  in  all  the  best  graces 


Till'  LCI    KII'KKS.  373 

Mat  Euphuism  i,f  which,  aiimn-  nis  own  clique,  he   had 

.  as  tlu>    perfect    master,      He  knew  that  Lady 

•  PTOttld    have   turned    up    her  gyefl  to    V..aven,  in   new-horn 

liad    lie    l.m    spoken    iiis    ]  rchis  to    her;   and 

0  «.f  I.adx  Grace  would  have  he,  (rill  tears  of  a  siini- 

lar  delight.     ]I..\\  -could    lie   hring   hi,,isc  If  to  believe  that  they 

:.  thrown  away  on  the  unpra  ditories  of  the  maid 

The   n. .re    he    a>ked    L  :estion,  the  more  difficult 

me  hi>  helief,  and  hy  tl  aehed  his  cl.ai. 

*''>nviiu-e«l    th,,-  ;r.ost,  he   had   only   sufl'ered    an 

b   an   DTI  lar.dies  are  a])t  to  j.r-ctisc  upon 

their  tailors,  when  they  ftYoid,  \vith. -ut  refusing,  paynu.nt  — siudi 
:i  as  ;l  c-unn'ir.  i    might  practise,  upon  her  lover, 

1(>>t   a  tl>"   Bidden  '  !•    might   clicapen  the  value  of  hei 

ch*nng.  this  new  conviction,  that  he  deter 

mined,  in  ,lisi-ai-d:  11()t  to  put  on 

ll»>  "  N  he   called   In,  ••  i  Qcy"  or  "  | 

"PI"  d  a  dark  orange-tinted  garment 

"  [  -;nly  expressive  of  min- 

ibt,  than  any  other  color.     Tlie  serious  exami- 

his  mind,  and  of  his  wardrol.e,  h. 

W    detennine,1.  .•nri.illy,  to    sustain    his 

'.I'ilities  under  the  .shock  A\hich  they  had  neces:-;.ulv  siifi'ered. 
iugly  pensive,  and  his  (d<»(;uence  was 
enlivened  hy  an  occanoiia!  .U1,l  lon^-iirawn  siu;h. 
MiddleU-n    did    not    sutler   this  "  MoM-a"   to    aftlict    her 
Naturally  of  a  M-rious  an«!  Wnetl  character,  she  had 
•f  disquietude  which   eflectually  l.anished  so  light 
a    her  contemplation;   and   iM.thir^  could  so  c 

the   Mir-eon,  a&  the  calm,  unmoved,  and 

»lt«'»'l)'  ttl  Manner  with  which  .slur  ma  iv  i)-e  usual  inqui- 

Ie. 

Mill  house?     Is   it   sweet 

d.l    all    thin-s    were    equally   so,  Mi^s    M    iiieton.      We 

reel    in   the   coffee,  could  we  escape 
fn.in  the  hitti-i-  of  life." 


374  THK   SCOUT. 

"I  should  liiiuk,  sir,  Uft&t  you  had  imt  been  compelled  to  drink 
much  of  it ;  or  you  have  swallowed  the  draught  with  wonderful 
resignation." 

"  Alas  !  — have  I  not '"  and  he  shook  his  smooth,  sleek  locks 
mournfully,  fi-oi.i  side  to  S'dc,  as  if  nobody  had  ever  known  such 
a  long  continued  c.ise  of  heart  ache  as  his  own.  But  Flora  did 
not  laugh.  She  w^c  ir.  no  mood  for  it ;  and  though  the  frequent 
niaiseries  cf  the  eurgeori  might  have  provoked  her  unbounded 
merriment  at  another  t:~.t,,  V.er  heart  was  too  full  of  her  own 
doubts  and  diificultiw  no-:  to  deprive  her,  most  effectually,  of 
any  such  disposition  now. 

The  next  dsy  slie  was  *ooiewLat  startled  at  the  sudden  arri 
val  of  a  man  at  the  barony,  wLorn  SLO  instantly  recognised  as 
the  person  meant  by  John  Bannister  when  he  spoke  to  her  tin- 
day  before.  His  frame  was  large  and  muscular,  like  that  of 
Bannister,  but  he  was  deficient  in  one  of  hla  arms.  She  fancied, 
too,  that  lie  watched  her  with  a  good  dftal  of  interest,  as  he 
passed  her  on  the  staircase,  making  his  way  to  the  apartment  of 
the  invalid,  and  his  attendant,  Gray.  It  was  evide.-t  *!-:it  Ban 
nister  had  some  intimate  knowledge  cf  what  was  going  on 
among  her  inmates,  and  this  was  another  reason  why  her  own 
anxieties  should  increase-,  as  she  remembered  the  warnings  to 
watchfulness  which  the  worthy  scout  had  given  her.  SVf  was 
well  disposed  to  confide  in  hi  •'.a.  St..  .inge  to  say,  though  she 
knew  him  chiefly  as  the  friend  of  Clarence  Conway,  and  had 
every  present;  reason  co  believe  in  the  faithlessness  and  unwor- 
thiness  of  the  latter,  her  confidence  in,  and  esteem  for,  John 
Bannister,  remained  entirely  unimpaired.  The  wonder  was  that 
Conway  should  iiave  so  entirely  secured  the  affections  of  such  a 
creature.  This  wonder  struck  Flora  Middleton,  but  she  ha-i 
heard  of  such  ineUncea,  :tnd  it  does  not  seem  unnatural  that 
there  should  be.  scill  some  on<%  or  more,  who,  in  the  generaJ 
belief  in  our  unworthmees,  should  still  doubt  and  linger  on,  an  : 
love  to  the  ve/y  last.  We  are  all  unwilling  to  be  disappoint  <:. 
in  our  friends,  not  lec-au&c  they  are  so,  but  because  it  is  <  i 
judgment  which  V*H  made  them  so.  Bewildered,  and  \,'A\  a 
heavy  heart,  that  se.^r -;\\  ci-^.<  ij.proarhing  evil,  Mora 

retired  to  her  chamber  v/il.  r.  hhvf  !:ead.  wh'le  our  old  ac 


Tin:  Ki:n  !:\  OF  THK  KI.ACK   unn..  375 

.jnaintam-e.  Is,-,.-,,-  Mu-'-    llic  landlord,  was  kept  in  bu>y  o.nsul- 
latimi  with  tlio  outlaw  and  his  confidant. 

W«-    pan    over  all   such   portions  of  the   cnnfVi-  JO  not 

promise  to  assist  us  in  our  narrative  ;   and  the  render  may  : 

Mmself  the  long  ejaculations  which  the   landlord  uttrivd,  M 
finding  his  old  associate  and  captain  reduced  to  his  present  con 
dition  ;  —  ejaculations,  which  were  increased  in   length  and  li 
brownest,  in    due  proportion    with  the  treachery  which    M 
meditated,  and  of  which  he  had  already  hoen  guiv 

"  Knough,  enough  of  your  sorrow,  good  Isaac,"  said  the  out 
law  with  some  impatience  :  ••  tl  ;s  ami  sorrows  will  do 
t"i-  a  time  when  we  have  nlnre  leisure,  and  B little  need  "i'thrni. 

PMM!    news  in  as    iew  words   as    possible.      Y"iir 
wi>hes  I  can  readily  understand  without  your  speaking  the; 

-"d  his   readiness  to  answer,  and    \Y.v 
icted  the  iiKjuiry  ;    Morton,  assisting  only  at  iiDinents,  when 

y  a  particular  anxiety  upon  some  particular  point. 
•'  Did  you  meet   Ilrydonc  hctore  you  separated  from  Uawdon'B 
arm;. 

••  V-'s;   he  joined  us  at  Ninety-Six." 

-  !!.•  t..ld  you  the  plan." 

"Y< 

"Yon  are  willing?     You've  got  the  boats?" 

"  1  ean  get  them." 

••  When  —  in  what  time?" 

"  Well,  in  four  days,  I  reckon,  if  need  be." 

B  you  si:. 

"  I  reckon,  I  may  |  |  •„,  j,n.ttv  sartin." 

11  :i  turned  up(in  the  couch,  an<l   half  raised    him.se!! 

from  it. 

-  Look  yon.  Mu-gs,  you   speak  with    only  half  a  heart.      V,.,, 

:ed  at  something.      What's   the  matter  with    yon,  man  . 
are  yon  not  will:ng?" 

"Yes,  cap'in,  I'm    will     _  Why  shouldn't  1    he  Mil 

ling?      I'll  do  all  that  yon  . 

"  Tll;it  is  y"11'11  P't  H...  bo  ti  in  rea.linesfi.  /, -r,-.  ;a  tho  land 
ing,  within  four  days  ;  l.e.r,  air  y.,,,  willing  to  dy  ^oonelfl  You 
IT!  not  f.,,,1  iMiongli  to  fam-y  that  th«-  rehrN  u 


276  THE  SCOUT. 

here  when  the  army's  gone,  to  enjoy  wlia*  you've  despoiled 
ihem  of." 

"  No  great  deal,  cap'in,  I  reckon." 

"  Ay,  hut  there  is  Muggs  !  You  cannot  deceive  me,  though 
you  may  the  rest.  I  know  your  gains,  and  a  word  of  mine 
•.\  mild  send  them  flying  much  more  rapidly  than  they  were  ever 
••niught  together.  Do  not  provoke  me,  man,  to  speak  that 
word." 

"  Well,  cap'in,  I  dont  want  to  provoke  you.  Don't  I  tell  you 
that  I'll  do  all  you  wish," 

"  Ay,  but  you  seem  d d  lukewarm  about  it,  Muggs ;  and 

you  have  not  said  whether  you  are  Trilling  to  join  our  fortunes 
or  not.  Now,  you  join  us,  heart  and  soul,  body  and  substance, 
one  and  all,  or  we  cut  loose  from  you  at  once.  You  are  in  our 
power,  HuggSj  and  we  can  destroy  you  at  a  moment's  warning. 
Hut  it's  neither  our  policy  nor  wish  to  do  so.  You  can  help  us 
materially,  and  we  arc  willing  to  help  you  in  return.  Bounty 
lands  await  you  in  the  AVest  Indies.  You  will  live  with  old 
friends  and  neighbors,  and  with  your  guineas " 

"  Mighty  few  of  them,  I  reckon,  cap'in,"  said  Muggs. 

"  Few  or  many,  you  can  only  save  them  by  flight.  Are  you 
ready  ?  Beware,  how  yon  answer  !  Beware  !  You  must  go 
with  us  entirely,  or  not  at  all." 

An  acute  observer  might  have  seen,  while  the  outlaw  was 
.•peaking,  an  expression  of  snllenness,  if  not  resistance,  in  the 
face  of  tin-  landlord,  which  did  not  argue  the  utmost  deference  for 
the  speaker,  and  seemed  to  threaten  an  outbreak  of  defiance,  lint 
it'  Mugjrs  frit  any  such  mood,  he  adopted  the  wiser  policy  of 
Mippressing  it  for  the  present. 

"  'Su  omuls,  cap'in,"  he  exclaimed,  with  more  earnestness  than 
In-  had  before  shown  in  the  interview  —  "You  talk  as  if  you  was 
jub'ous  of  me,  —  as  if  I  worn't  your  best  friend  from  the  begin 
ning.  I'm  willing  to  go  with  you,  I'm  sure,  wherever  you  think 
it  safest  ;  but  you're,  mistaken  if  you  think  I've  got  so  much  to 
1-is;1,  an  1  so  much  to  carry  away.  Mighty  little,  it  wonld  be,  if 
lh'.'  rebels  did  find  every  guinea  and  shilling  in  my  keeping." 

"  Pshaw,  Mnggs,  you  cannot  blind  me  with  that  nonsense 
li«c  your  guineas  few  or  many,  it  is  enough  that  you  know  where 


Tin:  !ii:rn:\  OP   HU 

to  curry  (Iiein,  and  h«.\v  to  keep  (hem  in  safety.  And  now,  wha* 
of  Rawd"n  .'  Where  did  you  leave  him?" 

"  At  Nil  i 

"  He  had  beaten  Greene  ?" 

"  Run  him  oil'  from  tlie  siege  only." 

"  Well  :  what  next.  D.n-s  Rawdon  leave  a  garrison  at  Xirip- 
ty-Six  ?" 

"  I  reckon  not.  There  was  some  talk  that  he  u.  arvo 

it  as  he  .-arveo.  Camden.  Burn  the  town  and  tear  up  the  stock- 

"Al  I  thought.     That's,  certainly,  his  proper  policy.     Well  ! 
the  troop  still  with  Rawdon  ?" 

••  N--  :  they  were  gone  after  Conway,  somewhere  above  upon 
the  Ennoree." 

•  May  they  find  him,  and  batter  out  each  other's  brains  at  the 
meeting,"  was  the  pious  and  fraternal  wish  of  the  outlaw. 

•And  now,  Muggs,"  he  continued,  "  the  sooner  you  take, 
your  departure  the  better.  Get  your  boats  ready,  yourseli  and 
guineas,  and  be  at  the  landing  here,  at  midnight,  four  days 
hem 

'  So  soon  !"  said  Gray.  "  Do  you  think,  captain,  you'll  be 
nhle  by  that  time?" 

Vy !  able  for  anything.  I  must  be  able.  This  flight  of 
Etawdon  will  render  mine  necessary,  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible." 

11  But  he  has  not  fled  yet  !" 

"  Pooh  !  p.x.h  !  A  ivhvat  in  bis  condition,  is  only  another  w«.nl 
for  a  flight.  But  if  h.-  I  yet  fly,  he  will  have  to  ,] 

before  very  1   ng.      He  is    pr.-parin.:    f..r  it    now,   and  I    have 
some  time  pa.-t    been    aware  nf  the    approaching   D6C68fiity. 
must  not  descend   the  count.  I  do.  th 

if  1  i  -  :!itee  in  ! 

1    (if   Conp, 

The    important    object  is    to  teeOTC    laithfnl   bnatnu'ii  ;     and 
y>u,  Mugj-,  and  a   few  others,  upon    whom    I  can    relv,  1    1 
no  doubts,  and  no  apprehen 

The,  landlord  wa  !  up..n  his  si-art  mission.      v> 

Gray   conducted   him  fed  -.ks  of  the  river,  where 


378  THE   SCOUT. 

identical  boat  in  which  our  friend  John  Bannister  had  approached 
the  shore  in  seeking  the  interview  with  Flora  Middleton.  It 
was  huddled  up  in  the  green  sedge  and  bushes  at  the  edge  of 
the  river  swamp,  and  thus  concealed  from  the  eyes  of  the  pas 
sing  spectator.  Before  parting,  Gray  gave  his  final  instructions 
to  the  landlord,  in  which  he  contemplated  every  matter  essen 
tial  to  the  journey,  and,  perhaps,  conducted  the  affair  with  less 
offence  to  the  feelings  of  the  latter  than  had  been  the  case  on 
the  part  of  the  outlaw.  Scarcely  had  Watson  Gray  gone  fnun 
sight,  before  Bannister  emerged  from  the  swamp  thicket  and 
joined  the  other. 

"He's  a  cute  chap,  that  same  Watson  Gray,  as  ever  beat 
about  a  thicket  without  getting  into  the  paws  of  a  black  bear  at 
rutting  season.  I'm  a  thinking  ef  the  man  was  decent  honest,  I'd 
sooner  have  him  in  a  troop  ot  mine,  than  any  man  I  knows  on. 
He's  a  raal  keener  for  a  sarch.  I'd  reckon  now,  Isaac  Muggs, 
from  the  way  he  slobber'd  you  over  in  talking,  that  he  \vas  a 
meaning  to  swallow  you  when  all  was  done.  It's  the  way  w^th 
the  big  snakes,  when  the  mouthful  is  a  leetle  big  at  the  begin 
ning." 

"I  reckon  that's  his  meaning,  Supple  Jack,  —  I'm  jub'ous 
that's  what  both  he  and  the  cap'in  are  a  conjuring." 

"And  I  am  thinking,  Muirirs,  that  he  was  a  trying  to  ease  off 
something  that  he  said  to  you  before,  which  went  agin  the  grain, 
and  made  the  teeth  grit." 

"  'Twan't  him  that  said  it  —  'twas  the  cap'in." 

"  A  pair  on  'em  —  both  sarpents,  —  mou't-be,  different  kinds 
of  sarpent ;  but  the  bite  of  a  rattle  or  a  viper,  is,  after  all,  the 
bite  of  a  sarpent  ;  and  it  don't  matter  much  which  a  man  dies 
of,  when  both  can  kill.  Hut  what  made  the  captain  graze  agin 
your  feelings?" 

"  Why,  he's  a  trying  to  make  a  scare  of  me  about  staying 
hi  re,  when  he's  gone.  He  says  there's  no  safety  for  me  among 
the  n-bcls." 

"  I  reckon,  Isaac  Mu^rjrs.  there's  an  easy  answer  for  all  that. 
You've  jest  <rot  to  p'int  to  me,  ami  say,  •That  'ere  man  convart- 
ed  me  by  strong  arjrymeiit,'  and  I  reckon  nobody'll  bo  BO  hold 
t*»  to  touch  you  after  that." 


THI;  Ki.ii  I:N  UIDKKS.  879 

••  Mr  threat  nod  i  mi  I  t"  he  the  first  to  advise  him 

,,p !" 
I'm   mighty  i   ever  gin   him   such   advice,  Isaac," 

aaid  Han:  -ikingly. 

••  Vi •-  :   i  tit  though  he  made  b'lieve  that  lie  was  angry, and  all 
that,  now,  to-night,  ho  tells   me  how  he's  been  getting  ready  a 

tiiui1  lor  a  start." 

"I  b'lieve  him  !      Indeed.  1  knows  as  much  !      Well,  I'm  wil 
ling  that  he  should  get  away,  [MUM  MUJ.LTS  without  any  hurt  to 
;c.      For,  though   lie   desarves  hanging  and  quartering 
irved  it,  yet  lie's  come    of  the    same 

i,  halfway,  with  Clarence  ('onway;   ami  for  his  sake,  I'm 

will:  Ned  Conway  get  clear  of  the  hanging.     I  shouldn't 

be  so  miiihtv  anxious  to  help  him  out  of  the  way  of  a  hnllet.  for 

that's   the    hi  a  soldier,  to  die  by  shot  or  steel,  and  it 

don't  disgrace  him,  though   it's  hurtful  to  his  feelings.     I'd  help 

to  find  the  boat  f«-r  him  myself,  and  send  him  on  his  way.  ef  he 

content   to  git   oft'  with   his  own  hide  in  safety.      Hut  when 

r  his  villany  to   the  last  —  when  I  know  that  he  wants 

otY  another    <  gal,    and,   this   time,  agin   her 

will 1" 

:   a-thinking,  Supple,  that  you're  clean  mistaken  in  that 
Neither  hii  ij  >aid  a  word  about  it." 

They'd   ha'  been   but   small  sodgers  if 
had.     NO!  no]      They  know'd  that  twa'n't  the  way  t 
their  business  done,  to  make  it  more  ditlicult.    They  were  rather 
nb'ous  of  you,  yon   ^ay  yourself,  though   all   they  pretended  to 
to   carry    ofT   the   eap'in.      Would   it   ha' 
to  tell  you  that  they  wanted   you   to   help  to 
v  off  the  young  woman  from  her  friends  and  family  .    and,  ,vj 
I'm  thin!-.'  top  also  in  their  way  down  and  clean  the  plan 

tation  of  his  father's  widow  of  all  it's  niggers? 

v  know  how  to  play  the   game  better  than  that.      They  tell 
vou   they    pl.-iv    f>r   high    and   low,  only  ;    but  watch   them    well, 
they'll    makfl    their  .1  lek  tOO,  and  try  mighty  hard  to  count 
up  g;  it,  the   game's  in   our  hands  now,  EflUtO;    at  least, 

I'm  a-thinking  so.      A.s   f.-r  you   ;md   ycm   guineas — I  don't  ai 
/ou  how  man}   you'\e  got — hut  ;   do  ns  I  tell  you,  and 


580 


THE   SCODT. 


I'll  answer  for  their  safety.  We'll  get  the  boats  and  the  hands 
between  us,  and  we'll  have  'em  all  ready  when  the  time  comes, 
and  if  the  gal  is  to  be  whipped  off.it  won't  make  it  less  pleasant 
to  us  to  have  the  handling  of  her.  Do  you  cross  the  river  now, 
and  be  sure  and  put  the  boat  high  up  in  the  creek.  I'll  keep 
on  this  side  a  leetle  longer.  I  have  a  leetle  matter  of  business 
here." 

"  You're  mighty  ventersome,  Supple." 

"  It's  a  sort  o'  natur',  Isaac.  I  always  was  so.  A  leetle 
dance  on  the  very  edge  of  the  dangerous  place,  is  a  sort  of 
strong  drink  to  me,  and  makes  my  blood  warm  and  a-ivrali!. 
I'll  jest  scout  about  the  woodg  here  and  see  who's  waking  and 
who's  sleeping;  and  who's  a  tween  sleeping  and  waking  like 
myself." 

The  first  attentions  of  Jack  Bannister  were  paid  to  the  sleep 
ing.  He  watched  the  progress  of  his  comrade,  until  his  little 
barge  had  disappeared  from  sight  in  the  distance,  then  made  his 
way  with  the  intensity  of  a  natural  affection,  to  the  lonely  spot 
where  his  hands  had  dug  the  grave  for  Mary  Clarkson,  and 
where  her  body  had  been  laid.  Here  he  paused  a  few  moments 
in  silent  meditation,  then  proceeded  to  the  dense  thicket  to 
which,  on  the  night  when /she  fled  from  the  barony,  he  bore  her 
inanimate  person. 

When  he  reached  the  spot,  he  kindled  his  light,  and  drew 
from  a  hollow  tree  a  hatchet  and  rude  saw  which  had  been 
formed  from  an  old  sabre,  the  teeth  of  which  had  been  made  by 
hacking  it  upon  some  harder  edge  than  its  own.  He  then  pro 
duced  from  another  place  of  concealment  sundry  pieces  of  tim 
ber,  upon  which  he  had  already  spent  some  labor,  and  to  which 
his  labor  was  again  addressed.  Gradually,  a  long,  slender,  and 
not  ungracefully  wrought  shaft  of  white  wood  appeared  beneath 
his  hands,  into  which  he  morticed  the  arms  of  a  cross,  with  a 
degree  of  neatness,  and  symmetry,  which  would  have  done  no 
discredit  to  the  toils  of  a  better  artist,  under  the  more  certain 
guidance  of  the  daylight.  This  little  memento,  he  was  evidently 
preparing,  in  silence  and  seclusion,  and  with  that  solemnity 
which  belongs  to  the  pure  and  earnest  affection,  for  tho  lonely 
grave  which  he  had  just  visited.  With  a  fond  toil,  which  with 


381 

and  spared  IP.  ciV-.rt,  lie  now  led— hia  more 

lini^hed —  to  a  Jim-lion  of  his  work  which,  pri 
ll  fatiLMini:  of  all  the  labors  of  love  which  he 
hid  imposed  upon  himspif.     This  »\  as  to  cut  into  tlio  wood  UJP 
1"  initials  of  the   ;  for  whom  the  memorial  was  in- 

Our  worthy  woodn.-.p  was  no  architect,  and  the   I 

I  which  his  knife  dug  hit<    the  wood,  may  perhap< 
ha\.'  be   frequent   smile  of  the    irrev- 

r.     He   possibly  anticipated  the  ciitiei^ns  <>r 
for\\  he   murrrai-'-d,  while,   sw rating   • 

'•ih.irs — 

all  chance  for  1'arning  that  .Tail 
i  tlie  Congaree  ;  hut  it's  the  best  that  I  can  .1 
Mary,  and  I'd  ha'  been  willing  to  give  her  the  be 
the  beginning.     But  twa'n't  ordered  so  by  Provid*  .1    •     .nd 

•  for  further  talk  about  it.    If  I  hadn't 
•n  uj><>n  her,  I'd  be  a-mighty  deal  more  easv  now,  1m;  ' 

't  wasn't  meant  for  her — 'twasn't  any  how  from  the  he..rt 
—  and  'twas  nateral  that  a  man   should  strike,  hard  ami  quick, 
when  he  finds  another  jumping  out  upon  him  from   the  1 
Who'd  ha'  thought  to  find  a  gal  in  man's  clothes,  jest  thei 
in  the  thick  of  the  fighting?     But  the  Lord's  over  all,  and  he 

it  for  the  best.     That   sorrow's   done   with,  or  ought   t 
done  with  ;   and  the  sensible  person  ought  to  be  satisfied  to  ! 

:d  prepare   only  for  them   that's  yet  t->  Come.      This  board 
i-   a  sort  of  line  between  them  old  times  and  the  coming  < 
and  these  two  letters  shall  say  to  Jack   Bannister,  nothing  more 
than — 'Look  for'a'd,  Jack;    there's  no  use   in  looking  back!' 
Vet  <  i   make   'em   out,  though  thev  may  read  quite 

another  lesson.  They'll  laugh,  may  be  at  such  printing.  It'- 
iiad  enough,  sartin  ;  but  it's  the  1«  -•  I  ,  -.Id  do.  Tl  <M. 
mighty  ugly  lean  about  that  'M.,'  jest  as  if  it  was  a  turn1 
f-.r'a'd  upon  the  '('.'  —  yet  I  thought  I  had  got  the  t\vo  rm 
pp'tty  even  together.  W«-ll,  there's  no  helping  it  now. 
inu.-t  stand  till  the  time  comes  when  I  can  pay  the  stonecutter 

'Me." 

i   his   horn,  he   filled  with  powder  the  lines  which  1. 
cut   in    the   wood,   and    then    ignited    it.      The   blackene      ' 


•'  THK    SCOtJt, 

made  the  simple  inscription  sunlcieiitly  distinct,  and  the  good 
fellow,  shouldering  his  rude  monument,  bore  it  to  the  grave,  and 
drove  it  down  at  the  head  of  the  inmate. 

He  had  not  well  finished  this  work,  before  he  fancied  that  he 
heard  foreign  sounds  mingling  suddenly  with  the  murmurs  of 
the  Congaree,  as  it  plied  its  incessant  way  below.  He  listened, 
and  the  murmurs  deepened.  He  went  forward,  cautiously, 
through  the  wood,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  discerned  the 
advance  of  a  body  of  men,  all  well  mounted,  whom,  upon  a 
nearer  approach,  he  discerned  to  be  the  Black  Riders. 

John  Bannister  was  not  a  man  to  be  alanned  easily  ;  but  ho 
retreated,  and  stole  into  the  cover  of  a  bay,  the  thicket  of  which 
he  knew  was  not  penetrable  by  cavalry.  Here  he  crouched  in 
silence,  and  the  formidable  band  of  outlaws  slowly  wound  along 
in  silence,  through  the  forest,  and  on  the  very  edgr  o"  th« 
thicket  in  which  he  lay  concealed. 

A  new  care  filled  his  bosom,  as  he  beheld  their  progress  in 
the  direction  of  the  barony.  He  had  no  means  of  contending 
with  such  a  force,  and  where  was  Clarence  Conway  ?  Feeling 
for  his  commander,  and  sympathizing  with  his  affections,  the 
first  thought  of  Bannister  had  reference  to  the  new  dangers 
which  beset  the  path  of  Flora  Middleton.  He  was  surprised, 
however,  to  perceive  that  the  banditti  came  to  a  halt  but  a  little 
distance  from  him.  They  alighted,  the  words  of  command  were 
passed  along  in  whispers,  and  in  ten  minutes  they  prepared  to 
bivouac. 


MKSHKR  388 


CH  A  I'TKR    XXX  IV 
MB8H88, 

"  WKI.F.,  it's  mighty  strange,  i  •  :.  that  they  <lm't  gr 

forV  :.      They're  a-  caution  -in  .  now,  as  ef  the  whole  of 

Sm,.-  They're    after   some   new 

hief  thai'--;  more  in  want  of  a  night  covering  than  any 
tin1)'  do-,ie  hef-.re.  'Y-'ll,  ut'll  s  -o  !  There's  Watson 

>  with  his  c<>r]mr;n'~  .'rani  at  the  house;  and  hero's  the 
HlacK  K'd-'r.s  h-re  ;  And  i:  :tie  tWO  git  together,  it's  pree'n>n> 
little  'Ji.-i'  an  do,  with  the  help  of  I>aac'  ^\ 

and  he  wills  one  hand  only,      lit'  !  o>u:<l  work  poor  .lake  (Mark- 
out   of  their   r  •'  1    ':iak<-  a  third,  and  no  small  help 
he'd  give  us  in  a  ..'.'aiirht  i'o/'a'd,  np   and    down  fight.      I»nt.  I'm 
inh'oii:;   1                     a   hail   chance   in   the   grip  of  Watvi:   (Iray. 
rlt'    I    COnld    tf\     •  Mind   now  to  the    harony.  an«l   slmw  reason   to 
m  to  slip     tT  ;.,  the  river.  I   wo  ildn't  wait  for  Ned  Con- 
i-nt  I'd  i.i  'e   ii  -r   aua  /  in  the  Congaree,  where  the 
•rp-l'ix  liin;seli'  con'm  i't  find  her       ''Jut  then  there's  no  hope 
•  >f    th;it.       'i'hen-'s    a  inking    among    young 
en   that's   never    had    tn  •    hles>ing     /  a    hnshand,   as   ef  it 
••cent   and   i    ucate  tc  -.ru>t  a  single  man  under 
sue';                                                          bty  foolish!      Hut  something 
niu>t  he  done,  and  John  U.innv.Vr  must  IIP  in  the  way  of  doing 
lie  WMihi    •  ,ily  lend  (Marenoe    now,  with 
•fty                                        .    the.-*'  hloody  hlack  refugee 

i'h«-    COtli  iL'lits   may  he   traced  jj, 

li--  .  !t  the  ditliculties  of  his 

prehension  for 

,ind  ;    the  only  one  which  awakened 
•"id    called    forth    little    consideration.       T«»    rr 
Flora    Miitdleton  wa>    '  •        lie    km-w  the  . 

"mway  for  th;,t    inaillcil,  and    naturally  conclu.ie  1  thn? 


•   M  THK    SCOUT. 

J.ic  arrival  of  his  troop  would  j;ive  him  the  power  to  accomplish 
his  wishes,  even  by  violence,  if  necessary.  It  was  therefore  a 
reasonable  occasion  for  surprise  and  conjecture,  when  he  found 
the  outlaws  taking  their  halt  and  supper  on  the  skirts  of  the 
barony,  and  in  profound  silence  and  secrecy.  That  they  should 
keep  aloof  from  their  captain,  when  nothing  lay  in  the  way  to 
prevent  or  retard  their  reunion  with  him,  was  naturally  calculated 
to  mystify  the  scout.  He  little  knew  the  character  and  extent 
of  those  malign  influences,  which  provided  among  that  wild  and 
savage  body,  unfavorable  to  their  ancient  leader. 

It  was  with  increasing  concern  and  interest  that  Bannister,  in 
following  and  watching  the  movements  of  the  outlaws,  found 
them  about  to  throw  a  line  of  sentinels  between  the  grounds  of 
the  barony  and  the  river  landing.  This  treasure  denoted  certain 
suspicions  which  they  entertained,  as  he  fancied,  of  the  practices 
in  which  he  had  been  recently  engaged;  and  it  became  ncces 
sary  that  he  should  find  means  to  apr>riso  his  comrade,  Mugg% 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Congarea.  of  the  danger  that  awaited 
any  undue  exposure  of  his  person  in  his  future  crossings  to  and  fro 
"  A  long  swim !"  muttered  the  faithful  sccut,  with  a  .slight, 
shiver,  as  he  surveyed  the  river;  " ard  rather  a  coir*  c-.vim.  too, 
at  midnight;  but  I'll  have  to  do  it.  If  I  do"?'.,  vhey'U  riddle 
poor  Isaac's  belly  with  bullets,  when  ne>r  i/jinking  of  nothing 
worse  to  put  in  it  than  his  breakfast.  Tkit  I  must  dodge  about 
the  house  first  and  see  what's  a-going  on  in  that  quarter.  It 
s.-cins  mighty  strange  that  they  shouldn't  have  made  themselves 
known  to  their  captain.  What'r,  j  be  afeard  of?  But  rogue., 
is  always  a  myster'ous  and  jnbVus  sort  of  things.  A  ra 

•r  goes  straight  to  his  bunirir,  s.  If  he  has  to  shake  hands 
with  you  he  does  it  with  a  nvrt  CL  twist,  and  a  twirl,  and  somr- 
a  squint,  that  looks  every  which  way  but  the  right  one 
N'»\v,  it's  reasonable  that  a  good  scout  should  shy  off,  and  dodge, 
and  make  himself  as  squat  and  small,  under  a  bush,  as  he  nater- 
ally  can,  and  as  a  big  body  will  let  him.  But  when  the  game's 
a  Btraight-for'a'd  one  —  when  there's  no  dangers  nor  no  inimy, 

only  one's  own  affairs  to  see  after — it's  a  sign  of  a  rogue 
;.!!  over  that  he  shirks.  It  shows  that  he  shirks  from  the  lova 
of  the  thinir,  ai:-l  not  because  it's  a  ncedecssity/' 


BBS. 

John  Bannister  did   not   sutler   his   m«..  phy  to  ke- p 

him    inactivo.      Id-  wa<   OD€    bf  those    w:  phizc  ye1 

.id  —  a  race  of  which  the  world  !  .ratively  few.     In 

'once  tn  his  determination,  ;»le 

through  the  ways  which  had   hcvn   snmciently  traverse- .1  hy  his 

to   he    familiar,   \\ !  him,   without  ,   to    the 

i:ds  immediately  alnnit   the   mansion.      At  tin-  front  door  of 

'.wellinir.  wh'cli  was   cl  sentinel   mi   duty. 

I'.iit    he   yawned,  emphatically  ftnd   loud,  more   than   once  while 

the  so-lit  watched  him;  and   hy  his  listless  movement 

evidently  weary  en. -ugh   of  his  post   to  leave   it  to  itself  at  the 

Millions.     The   most   perfect   military  sul>ordi- 

nati"ii  was  n->t   preserved   hy  him  as   In-  paced  to  and    fro  along 

JOUlt       lie    sang,  and   whistled,  and    soliloqui/ed  ;    and,  not 

unfreiptently.  the  dull  measured 

the  indulgence  of  such  a  gavotte  <is  I  'lug  I>ritish  BO] 

of  the  "prince's  own"  might  he  sujiposed  capahle  of  displa; 
in  that  peritnl  oi'  huckram  movement. 

••  He'd    i  r  and   dance   a  ml  ter,"  mur 

mured  .John  Hanni^ier,  a-,  lie   helield  the  "  signi"r  of  the  night" 
iu  t:  nly  on  the  '  lihort\ 

.      Ee  gitS  8  shilling  a  day,  and  a  full  helly  ;   hut  he 

;  after  all.     Hive  me  a  sup; 

L'iled  m •  unli'iled,  iu  the  Santee  BWamp, before  all  his  hot  hr- 
I'm  a-lighting  for  can't  give  na-  a  letter  1 
to   dance   than   that.      I,«»rd  !    he   can    no   nmro   shake  a  leg  with 

Hlu.-s  than  he  can  sight  a  rifle  !" 

Contenting  himself  with  this  comparison,  and  :  urvey 

v/hieli  had   induceii    it.  he  turned    a\\ay.  and.  '  the  >i-t- 

tlen  to    the  out-house    in    which,  once    1  . 

the  guard    husy  in   their  gaming    practices.      A    light  glim- 
Hg   through  the   log  chinks   appri/.ed    him   of  the 
tliep  rupant  ;    and,  approaching  cautiously, 

through    an   aperture   in   the    rear  of  the   mud   structm. 
'Jit  of  an    ol.jcct,  to  him.  ol 

T;.;-   -  •       ned  with 

.  \\!,ich  coiiiiiie.i  l,i,th  his  hands  and  I 
The  old  man  leaned,  rather  than  sat,  against  the  wall 


386  THK   SCOUT. 

section  of  the  building.  A  dull  composure,  which  seemed  thai 
of  a  mortal  apathy,  overspread  the  poor  fellow '»  countenance 
His  eyes  were  half  closed,  hi?  mouth  drawn  down,  yet  open,  and 
the  listlessness  of  death,  if  not  its  entire  unconsciousness,  pve 
vailed  in  the  expression  of  all  his  features. 

Four  of  the  British  soldiers  were  present  in  the  apartment, 
two  of  them  stretched  at  length  upon  the  floor,  seemingly  ad 
and  the  other  two,  busy  to  themselves,  playing  languidly  at 
their  favorite  game,  which  they  relieved  l>y  a  dialogue  carried 
on  sufficiently  loud  to  enahle  Bannister  to  learn  its  purport. 
From  this  he  gathered  enough  to  know  that  the  improvement 
of  Edward  Conway  was  such  as  to  promise  them  a  change,  !'.••• 
which  they  pined,  from  the  dull  monotonous  recurrence  of  the 
same  unexciting  duties,  to  the  adventures  of  the  march,  and  all 
those  circumstances  of  perpetual  transition,  Avhich  compensate 
the  rover  for  all  the  privations  which  he  must  necessarily  un 
dergo  in  leaving  his  early  homestead. 

But  the  eyes  and  thoughts  of  Bannister  were  fixed  on  the 
prisoner  only.  The  pressure  of  surrounding  foes  onlv  made  him 
the  more  anxious  to  gather  together  and  secure  his  friends;  and 
thinking  of  poor  Mary  was  also  calculated  to  make  him  eagerly 
desirous  to  recover  her  father.  This  desire  grew  more  keen  and 
irresistible  the  more  he  watched  and  reflected,  and  it  was  with 
some  difficulty  that  he  restrained  his  lips  from  the  impetuous 
.tion  of  his  determination  to  release  him  from  his  bonds  or 
perish.  This  resolve,  though  not  expressed  aloud,  was  still  the 
occasion  of  a  brief  soliloquy. 

"Dang  my  buttons,  ef  I  don't  try  it!  If  there's  time  it  can 
be  done,  and  there's  no  harm  in  trying.  A  riile  in  .lake's  bands 
is  a  something  that  acts  as  well  as  speaks  ;  and  if  so  be,  \\  • 
to  have  trouble,  a  bullet  from  a  twisted  burr  is  a  mighty  good 
argyment  in  clearing  the  track  for  the,  truth.  It's  a  sort  of  a.v- 
strvke,  leading  the  way  for  the.  grubbing-hor." 

Ten  minutes  after,  and  Jake,  Clarkson  was  roused  from  b^ 
ntupor  by  the  slight  prick  of  a  sharp  instrument  from  he!:'  •  ' 
flim.  The  nervous  sensibility  of  the  old  man  had  been  prett\ 
well  blunted  by  time,  trial,  and  misfortune;  and  he  neither 
t*arted  nor  showed  the  silliest  symptom  of  excitement.  P>" 


MESI  887 


,  his  mind  was  I'nmjrlit  hark  l>>  the  world 
in  which  still,  and  a  lively  apprehe: 

awaken.  -d  within   him,  lest  tin-   gamhling   S"Mirrs  Bhool 

.  the  hand   that  he   now  felt  was   luisy  in  the  .  \tri 

him  from    his  honds.      He   did   not  dan-  to  ^tir  or  look  ;    hut 

v.scious  that  the  nmtwu  <lc  r/m.\.\c  of  the  v. 
ma:..  to  a  long  >tiek,  had  heen  thrust  through  the  . 

of  the   logs,  and   was   husily  plied    in    sawing  asunder  tlu 

;  his  arms.      These   had   heen   tied  hehind  thu 

•nor,   and    he    prudently    kept    them    in    that    position,  even 

though,  in  a  few  moments  alter,  he   felt  that  their  ligatures  had 

ied  to  the  knife. 

workman    ceased    from  without.      His    ta.-k.  90   tai 

:>y  him,  seemed   to  he  ended  ;    hut  the  feet  of 
the  pi  -is,,  Her  were   .still  The   friendly  assistant  seemed 

to  ha  d.      A  full   half  hour  elap.-ed  and  Jake  1. 

nothing.      The  soldiers  still  kept  at  their  game,  and  the  priM-ner, 
1    with    the    excitement    of  h.s    new    hope,   leaned   once 
•  !;e  wall. 

tin    frit   the   sharp  prick   of  the  knife-point. 

Cautiously,  hut  with   nerves   that    tremhled   for  the  first  time,  he 
availed  himxdf  i.f  one  of  his   freed  hands  to  j 

iiment  ;    which    now,   .separated    from    the    handle,    had 

:    for   the    farther   heneh't   of  the  pri 

ll  e    clutched    it  with   strange  delight.      The  momentary  impulse 

film-  .    him   to  spring   to    his   feet,  and    hound    upon    the 

1  with  the  moM  murderous  determination.    lint  the  pnn'.- 

'••nd's  course  from  without,  was  not  wa>ted  upon  him, 
and  he  contented  himself  with  quietly  securing  the  knife  hehiud 
him,  ;  ids  hands  in  the  same  position  in  which  his  < 

had  previously  .secured  them,  and,  with  new  h'>pes  in  1. 
preparin_  :  when  he  might  saiVU 

to  finish  the  work  of  his  emancipation. 

'  .ad   done  all   that  he  could,  at  this  time,  f..i 
the  rescue  <  f  (Maik-on,  the  hack  to  the  i 

the  hanks  of  which  he  ascended  a  few  hundred  yanl>,  and  thei., 
without  reluctance,  committed  hiniM-lf  to  the  stream.      Hall  * 
t'-ross,  the   rocks  afforded    him    a  inmnentaiy  roti 


388  THE  SCOUT. 

which  lie  surveyed,  with  a  mournful  satisfaction,  the  white  cross 
which  his  hands,  but  a  little  while  before,  had  reared  upon  the 
grave  of  Mary  Clarkson.  It  stood  conspicuous  in  sight  for  several 
miles  along  the  river. 

The  still  hours  of  the  night  were  speeding  on ;  and  the  mur 
mur  of  the  river  began  to  be  coupled  with  the  sudden  notes  of 
birds,  along  its  banks,  anticipating  the  approach  of  the  morning 
A  sense  of  weariness  for  the  first  time  began  to  oppress  the 
limbs  of  the  woodman,  and  it  needed  a  strong  and  resolute  men 
tal  effort  to  prevent  him  from  yielding  to  sleep  upon  the  slippery 
black  rock  which  gave  him  a  temporary  resting-place  in  the 
bosom  of  the  stream.  Plunging  off  anew,  he  reached  the  op 
posite  banks,  fatigued  but  not  dispirited.  Here,  he  soon  trans 
ferred  the  duties  of  the  watch  to  his  comrade.  To  the  landlord 
he  briefly  communicated  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  bestowed 
upon  him  the  necessary  advice  for  caution. 

Meanwhile,  a  spirit  equally  anxious  and  busy,  pervaded  the 
breasts  of  some  few  in  the  encampment  of  the  Black  Riders. 
The  watches  had  been  set,  the  guards  duly  placed,  and  the 
sentinels,  being  made  to  form  a  complete  cordon  around  the 
barony,  Lieutenant  Stockton,  acting  as  captain,  went  aside,  in 
consultation  with  his  apt  coadjutor,  Ensign  Darcy.  The  tone 
and  language  of  the  former  were  now  much  more  elevated, 
more  confident  and  exulting,  than  usual.  The  realization  of 
liis  desires  was  at  hand.  He  had  met  the  approbation  of  Lord 
Rawdon,  in  the  conduct  which  he  had  displayed  in  the  manage 
ment  of  his  troop  during  the  late  march,  and  nothing  seemed 
wanting  to  his;  wishes  but  that  his  immediate  superior  should  l>e 
no  longer  in  his  way.  To  supersede  him,  however,  was  not 
easy,  since  the  personal  grounds  of  hostility  which  Stockton  felt 
could  not  be  expressed  to  their  mutual  superior;  and  these  wrre 
Biich  as  to  lead  the  former  to  desire  something  beyond  the  mere 
command  of  the  troop  which  he  had  in  charge. 

It  was  necessary  not  merely  to  degrade  but   to  destroy  hia 
principal.     The  humiliating  secret  which  Edward  Morton  pos 
cd,  to  his  detriment,  was  equally  an  occasion  for  his   hate 
and  fear;   and   all    his  aits  had  been  exercised  to  find  some  pre 
text  for  putting  out   of  his  way  a  person  whose  continued  life 


MESHES.  889 

i    him  with    constant    and   humiliating   exposure.     Cir 
i-umstances  ha  .ted  with  the  desiies  of  the  conspirators. 

The  secret  of  Kdward  Morton  had  been  betrayed.  Jt  was 
known  that  he  desir.-d  to  escape  from  the  tioop  ;  —  that  lie  wan 
planning  a  sceret  flight  to  the  city  ;  —  that  he  had  already 
otV  considerable  treasure;  and,  that  he  awaited  nothing  hut  a 
partial  recovery  of  his  strength,  and  the  arrival  of  certain  boat* 
b  had  In  ed  t«»  him  by  the  landlord,  Muggs,  to  put 

ject  in  execution. 

In   thus   proceeding,  he  had  violated   the  laws  of  the  confede- 

rt'ul    oath    which   hound    the    outlaws    together — 

an  oath  taken  in  Mood;   and  the  violation  of  which   incurred  all 

the  penalties  of  Mood.      No  wonder  that  Stockton  exulted.     His 

DOW  all  legitimate.      His  hate  had  a  justiliahlc 

sanction,  according  to  the  tei.ets  of  his  victim,  equally  with  him- 

M-lt'.      It  was  the  law  of  the  troop.      It  was  now  indeed  his  duty 

to  prosecute  to  the  death  the  traitor  who  would   surrender  all  of 

them    to   destruction;   and   the   only    remaining   security  loft  to 

Morton  was  the   rigid   trial   to  which  his  hand  was  sworn.     The 

iy  doom  which    his   treachery  incurrc  i,  MTU    to    he  in!1.', 
only  after  the  fullest   proofs  that  it  was  justly  merited.      In  ting 
lay  his  only  chance   <  :  ami   this  chance    re.^tcd    upon   a 

slender  foundation.     One  of  his  .special  and   most  trusted  agents 
had    heen    hought    over  hy  the  machinatioifs  of  I  )arcy,  and  had 
him.      lie    had    involved    another    of  the  hand    in   his 

•   ,    and    this   other   had    confessed.       Two  witi.> 
concurring  against  him  and  the  proof  was  held  to  he  conclusive; 
and  two  witnesses  Stockton  was  now  secure. 

But  other  .it'm us  were  involved  in   the  deliherati 

the  parties.      Edward  Morton  they  knew  to  he  a  desperate  man. 
Wat          '  wa>  a  man  to  he  feared  as  well   as  hated.      T 

were  in  ;  of  a   strong   brick   dwelling,  with  probably  « 

dozen   musketeers  under  arms,  and   commanded  by  Uawdon  to 

y  them  in  iticular. 

It  was  no   part   of  the    pol:  -kton.  to  come  to  blows 

under  such  dr«M\mstances.  v  to  etYect 

his  •  ',  iiers  out    of  the  way,  to  halm-  I 

tail  secure   posse-  ,  '•;    it»n,  \\as  ;lr 


HIE  SCOUT. 

they  had  resolved  upon,  and  tlii.s  required  o.nsi.leraMe  manage 
ment,  and  excessive  caution  in  tht.ii  approach.  Besides,  <me  r>f 
their  witnesses  was  absent  on  a  scout,  and  to  declare  their  pur- 
pose,  until  he  was  present  to  maintain  it  by  his  oath,  would  have 
been  premature  and  imprudent.  It  was  also  their  object  to 
capture  the  landlord,  Muggs,  whose  proposed  agency  in  securing 
the  boats  for  the  flight  of  Edward  Morton  was  known  to  the 
conspiiators  through  the  individual  who  had  first  betrayed  his 
employer  to  his  enemies.  Hence  the  watch  which  had  been  set 
upon  the  river-landing,  and  which  had  compelled  Bannister  to 
swim  the  stream  that  night. 

These  matters  formed  the  subjects  of  deliberation  between 
the  two  conspirators.  Their  successes,  so  far,  made  them  san 
guine  of  the  future ;  and  the  rich  rewards  which  it  promised 
them,  made  them  equally  joyful.  The  treasures  of  their  captain 
were  to  be  equally  divided  between  themselves,  and  we  find 
them  accordingly  quite  as  busy  in  counting,  as  in  securing  their 
chickens. 

"  Pete  Flagg  has  charge  of  the  negroes,  over  two  hundred 
already,  and  there  are  those  from  the  place  of  his  stepmother, 
which  he  planned  to  take  off  with  him  in  these  boats  of  Muggs. 
I  know  where  to  go  for  his  guineas  —  ay,  to  lay  my  hands  upon 
the  vault ;  but  we  must  get  the  memorandum  acknowledgment 
which  I  reckon  he*  has  about  him,  from  John  Wagner,  who 
keeps  his  money.  There  must  be  three  thousand  guineas  at  the 
least." 

"  We  share  equally,"  said  Stockton,  with  eager  eyes.  "  That 
of  course  is  understood." 

"  Yes  :  but  there  should  be  a  private  paper  between  us,"  sai* 
Darcy. 

"  What  need  ?  we  know  each  other." 

"  Ay,  but  the  best  friends  can  not  be  too  cautious.  I  have 
drawn  out  a  little  memorandum  which  we  can  both  sign  to 
morrow." 

"Agreed  ;  I'm  willing.  But  no  witnesses,  Darcy — that  would 
ruin  all." 

"Yes  — that's  the  d-    1.     Let  the  troop  once  know  what  we 


HE8.  -J91 

.    Mp,,n  —  unil   our  chance  would   IK-   as  had,  «»r   even  worse 
than  liis.      We  should  hang  with  him  !" 

"  Him  w  have'  Him  we  have!  I  wouhl  Brydone  WGXt 
here.  1  1>  ni:  for  the  moment  to  wind  up  our  long  account  of 
hate.  It  will  he  the  sweetest  moment  of  my  life  when  I  com 
mand  them  to  drag  him  to  the  t 

"  He  patient  —  don't  let  your  hate  risk  our  gains.  We  can 
get  nothing  l»v  working  rashly.  T  lit  or  ten  soldiers 

that  he  has  here  would  make  desperate  light.  That  scoundrel, 
(irav,  must  lave  su>pected  us  when  he  asked  Uawdon  for 
then 

"  Well,  well  —  he'll  have  his  turn  also." 

"  1  douht  we'll  have  to  tix  him  along  with  the,  captain,  lie's 
a  hird  out  of  the  same  nest." 

"  I  shall  lie  willing.      1  have  i;o  love  for  him." 

"  Did  \.iii  iell  Brydone  when  to  meet  you  here?" 

••Yes!  —  that's  all   arranged  !" 

"  liv  that  time  we  ought  to  ha\  •  LOU  of  the  captain." 

vv.  then  or  never.      We    mu>!    have    him    and  all  things  in 
rea<,  time    Hrydone   comes.      Are   you  sure  of   the 

there  n. >ne  douhtful  /" 

None.      '!'.  e\v  milk-hearted  fellows  only,  hut  they're 

of  n  .rt.      'i'hey'll  oiler  no  opposition  when  they  tint!  so 

many  against  them." 

"  I1,.  :  them,  al.so,  if  you  can.      I'd  even  give  something 

ake  all  Mire.      Then-    must    he    no    hungling    at  the  last  mo- 

'.      If  there  is,  and  he  has  any  chance  to  talk,  he  is  so  d — d 

artful  of  tongue,  that  he'd  work  courage  into  the  most  cowardly 

1  fear  him  still." 

••  1  do  not.  I  know  t/n-m,  and  I  know  him."  replied  the 
subordinate.  "  11  done,  lie  ha>i;'t  the  Ml 

them  that  he  had  of  old,  and    the  late  profits  have  en! 
;    them    considcrahly  on   the  manage- 

"Yes.  those  iruineaa  were  BMOti    1  think." 

••  FanMMif,     r.ut  tii.'  ; .  ttei  h..wn.     i: 

the   hest.       I.et    them    hut   k  '-ly  that    his    ] 

to    give    them    up,    break    ihr    law.    an«i    leav    tliem  — 


sroUT. 

betray  them  into  Sumter's  clutches —  ami  there  will  be  but  one 
voice  among  them,  and  that  will  be,  'Death  to  the  traitor!'  " 

"  So  be  it.  To-morrow  night  we  have  him,  and  with  the  rise 
of  another  sun  he  dies." 

"  Yes,  if  Brydone  comes  in  time  for  the  trial." 

"  Brydone  or  not,  Darcy — he  dies." 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

BAGATELLE    BEFORE    BUSINESS. 

THIS  will  suffice  to  show  the  policy  of  the  confederates 
Their  plans  of  treachery  were  nearly  complete,  and  they  were 
weaving  them  with  the  silent  industry  and  circumspection  of  the 
spider,  who  already  sees  and  has  chosen  his  victim. 

Little  did  Edward  Morton  fancy,  at  this  moment,  the  web 
that  environed  and  the  dangers  which  threatened  him.  lie, 
himself  was  busy  in  his  own  plans  of  similar  treachery.  Ilia 
wounds  were  healing  fast,  his  strength  returning,  and  with  his 
strength  came  back  the  old  passions  of  evil  which  had  hereto 
fore  inflamed  his  heart  to  its  own  debasement.  The  mournful 
fate  of  the  poor  Mary  Clarks.m  had  already  passed  from  his 
thought,  and  almost  from  his  memory;  and,  if  remembered  at 
all,  it  was  only  in  connection  with  the  new  feeling  of  freedom 
which  he  felt  in  her  absence.  Her  deatli  he  now  regarded  as  a 
sort  of  Providential  interference,  by  which  he  was  relieved  of  a 
burden  at  the  auspicious  moment  when  it  must  have  become 
more  burdensome  than  ever. 

Circumstances  seemed  to  favor  him  on  every  hand  ;  and  tiie 
influence  of  mind  upon  matter  was  never  more  favorably  shown 
than  in  the  improvement  of  his  health  and  strength,  under  the 
agreeable  sensations  which  he  experienced  from  a  review  of  all 
the  promising  results  which  seemed  to  await  only  his  recovery. 
In  a  few  days  his  bark,  richly  freighted,  was  to  bear  him  away 
to  a  region  of  security  and  peace,  in  which,  free  from  all  haras 


BA<;ATKLLK   BEFOEE   B  3CS 

sing  dangers  which  had  so  long  attended  his  progress,  he  \s  a* 
to  enjoy  tin-  fruit  of  his  toil*,  and  taste  the  luxuries  of  a  fresh 
and  long  '.:.  II.-  would  shake  himself  free  from 

his  old  connections —  a  wi>h  long  since  entertained  ;  he  would 
tly  with  the  woman  whom  he  l«»vcd,  from  the  foes  whom  he 
feared  and  hated  —  to  the  peace  for  which  he  had  yearned, 
and  to  that  afiluence  winch  a  mercerary  appetite  for  gain  had 

,  ly  accumulated  in  alumdai; 

X.i  wonder,  then,  that,  revelling  in  these  convictions,  he 
laughed  ami  sang  at  intervals,  as  Watson  Gray  and  himself 
discussed  their  mutual  plans  and  glowing  expectations.  The 
skit  -  fined  to  look  down  more  propitiously  bright  than 

upon  their  joint  wishes  and  performances;  and  even  Watson 
Giay,  habitually  stern  and  composed  in  his  bearing  and  de 
meanor,  condescended  to  join  in  his  principal's  merriment,  and  to 
minister  to  his  mirthful  mood,  by  a  relation  of  such  of  the  par 
ticulars  of  the  surgeon'*  wooing  as  had  come  to  his  knowledge. 

We    '  ••!•  >'•    Been  the    share  which   Gray  had  in  promoting  the 

objects  of  Ilillhou-  .      H.     knew,  of  course,  that   Flora  Middle- 

>rn    such    a    suitor.      He    had    already   beheld    the 

indifference  —  to  call  the  feeling  by  its  most  innocent  epithet  — 

with  \\hich    she    regarded  him  ;   and  he,  as   well    as   the   outlaw, 

knew  D]  -smaii.  or  rather  woman  nature,  to  be  sure  that 

the    result   of   his   application  would    be   at   once   amusing   and 

Unsuccessful.      Gray    recounted,  for   the    benefit  of  his  superior, 

the  i  :ls  which  Hillhouse  bad  undergone  at  his  toi- 

-- partly  in  his  pre.-ence  —  in  determining   upon  the  colors  of 

his    suit,   the    style    and    pattern  «>f   his  dress,  and    the    manner, 

audacioii>   or    subdued,  in   which    he   should    make   his    first   ap- 

In    choosing    his    costume,    he    Deemed    disposed    to 

realise  the  pictorial  .-atirr  with  which  the  ancient  artists  i^ed  to 

:'.::glishman  in  putting  on  his 
:  — 

''.'  -I'll  on  Engli*hni:u  .  1   I  stand  IK 

M'»ii:  _  •:.       .  t  I  shall  u  • 

Q  wrni    tin-,  :i-i.l  now   I  »li;i!i 
And  now  1  shall  w.  u  —  I  •  in  nut  ti-11  what." 

The  reader  :  that  the   do>e-colored    suit  wa.-  triumph- 


394  THE   SCOUT. 

ant;  but  lie  does  not  so  well  know  the  peculiar  air  u  hid 
marked  the  carriage  of  the  suitor.  Watson  Gray  had  seen  him 
depart,  and  had  beheld  him  on  his  return.  We  know,  that  by 
the  time  Ilillhouse  got  back  to  the  house,  he  had  fairly  con- 
xinced  himself  that  the  unqualified  rejection  of  Flora  Middleton 
had  been,  in  reality,  nothing  more  than  that  ordinarv  mode  of 
evasion  among  the  sex,  of  the  uses  of  which  none  of  them  are 
wholly  ignorant,  and  with  which  they  simply  mean  to  heighten 
the  value  of  their  subsequent  concessions. 

Thus  assured,  his  countenance  wore  nothing  of  discomfiture 
in  its  expression.  Nay,  so  perfectly  triumphant  did  it  seem, 
that  Gray,  who  could  not  altogether  believe  that  the  world 
p»>si'ssi'd  any  instance  of  such  thoroughly  self-blinding  vanity, 
began  to  tremble  lest  Flora,  with  that  weakness  of  the  >ex 
which  makes  them  miracles  of  caprice  upon  occasion,  had,  ii. 
her  unhappy  moments,  been  over-persuaded  and  had  yielded. 
Staggered  for  an  instant  by  this  apprehension,  he  was  left  hut  a 
little  while  in  doubt.  When  Ilillhouse  gave  the  tenor  of  her 
answer,  Gray  laughed  outright,  and  hurried  away  to  share  the 
pleasure  with  his  superior.  The  surgeon  followed  him  to  the 
chamber  of  the  outlaw,  as  soon  as  he  had  succeeded  in  adopting 
the  symbol  of  a  fitting  sentiment  for  the  new  change  which  he 
contemplated  in  his  garments;  and,  without  intending  any  such 
favor,  he  delighted  the  invalid  by  a  candid  revelation  of  the 
events  which  had  just  taken  place,  and  which  he  deemed  to  be 
so  favorable  to  his  desires. 

"May  you  always  be  so  fortunate!"  was  the  generous  wish 
of  the  outlaw,  as  the  surgeon  concluded  his  narrative. 

"Thank  you.  You  are  too  good.  I  doubt  not  J  shall  he. 
But,  in  truth,  is  it  not  wonderful  that  a  country  girl  —  a  mere, 
rustic,  as  she  is  —  should  be  able  to  practise  those  arts  which 
belong  only  to  i'ashionable  life?" 

"An  instinct  —  an  instinct,  my  dear  sir." 

"Well,  'pun  my  afiections,  I  think  so." 

"They're  all  alike,  Mr.  Ilillhouse  —  high  and  low,  rich  am: 
poor,  city-bred  and  country-bred  —  they  all  know  how  to  baffle 
the  ardent,  and  stimulate  by  haflHng." 

"  It  will   somewhat  reconcile  me  t.->  the  event,"  said  the  si:r 


:.      "  I  had  my  :i}i|i!vli«  .ring 

1  bringing 

tin-  upper  circles  the   ODBClphutlulted    damsel  of  the  v, 

•-:  ;    Init  now " 

-:iiK-t    of   the   sex    will    usually   supply    the    want    of 
-ng —  it  will  save  you    every  annoyance  ;    1'iit,  even  w< 

.  Mi.  ir.llh.'iise,  how  chinning  would   it   have   heen   to 
wn  her  in  the  line  world   as  the    lieautifu!  from 

I  never  thought  of  that." 
••  An  ahorigiual  princess." 

"  Like  PowkerliOTOntftf  I      Ay,  1  have  heard  of  that  prii.< 
She  was  a  Virginian   princess.     My  old   friend.  Sir  Marmaduke 
Mim-ing.   tol.l    me    all    her    history  —  how    she    had    fought    her 
fatlu  .  the  captain  —  what  was  his  name  .' — Hut  no 

matter  —  It  was  something  very  low  ami  vulgar.  She,  married 
him  ;  and  Sir  Marmaduke,  who  had  seen  her.  said  she  had 
reallv  a  very  human  countenance,  and  was  quite  like  a  woman  ; 
but"  —  lifting  his  hands  in  horror  —  "her  feet.'  They  I 

Thev  were  four  feet,  rather  than  tw».  H<(,  ha! 
fou:  feet  !  !>..  you  take  me  with  you,  Captain  Conway  ,'  K.-M. 
feet  lather  than  t\\ 

"Ha!    ha!    ha  !"  roared   Gray;    and   Coins  ay  also  echoed 
laughter  of  the  surgeon,  hut  it  was  rather  at  himself  than  hi 

"  lint  ihe  feet  of  your  princess  here,  Mi>-^  Middleton,  are  realK 
vei\     good,    and    rather    small    fee?.    Mr.    Hill/i-mse       They  wil' 

.rht  !" 

Ul,  tmO,  .jiiite  respectahle  as  feet  —  ijuile  resjieetahl.1  !      She 
will  do;    and  your   idea,  sir,  that  site  would    he 
{•raring  in  the  character  of  Id  In-lit-  xmini^f.  reconciles  all  ol 

,il\-.      1    think   much    hetter  of  the  \"' 
•Man  :  :ly." 

"  .V>  .:..ui.t    you  should  ;    Li:1    M..   EUllhoUM  —  m»t   t««  intei  I'Upt 

let    me    remark  that   wai 

camjiing  gr-.und  huig.  as  tl,- 

•iten  employ  the  i 

iwa\    the    o'.her.      You.  >ir,  ha\'e    little    time    t  \    u 

itware  tin: 


396  THE   SCOUT. 

"  Retreat  — from  what  ?" 

"  The  enemy  —  the  rebels.  He  has  been  compelled  to  evaco 
ate  Ninety- Six." 

"Evacuate  !  what  an  unpleasant  word  !" 

"  You'll  find  it  so,  unless  you  proceed  in  your  attack  with  in 
creased  vigor.  You  will  soon  be  compelled  to  evacuate  Brici 
Park,  leaving  hi  Idle  sauvagc  to  the  care  of  other  savages  not 
so  beautiful,  and  possibly  something  more  dangerous." 

"  You  discompose  my  nerves,  Captain  Conway.  May  I  loam 
if  all  this  be  true  —  be  certain?" 

"  Too  true  :  ask  Mr.  Gray.  He  brings  me  the  intelligence. 
He  has  just  received  it." 

44  Sure  as  a  gun,"  said  Gray. 

44  And  with  quite  as  startling  a  report,"  continued  the  outlaw. 
•4  What  you  do  will  need  to  be  done  quickly.  You  must  press 
the  siege." 

"  Night  and  day,"  added  Watson  Gray. 

44  You  can't  stop  for  regular  approaches,"  continued  Morton. 
"  Remember  you  have  nothing  but  field-works  to  contend 
with " 

44  And,  for "  added  the  surgeon,  rubbing  his  hands  with  a 

gentle  eagerness. 

44  Sap  and  storm  at  the  same  moment,  Mr.  Hillhouse.  You 
must  go  through  and  over  the  works  both  ;  or  expect  to  raise 
the  siege  very  shortly.  I  doubt  if  you  have  three  days  left  you. 
Lord  Rawdon  will  be  on  his  way  for  the  Eutaw  before  that 
time." 

"  My  dear  friend !  you  rejoice  while  you  alarm  me.  I  will 
not  suffer  any  delay.  But  haste  is  so  vulgar." 

44  Except  in  flight." 

44  Ah  !  even  there  ;  one  can  not  dispose  his  garments  well,  an'i 
the  face  is  flushed,  and  the  manner  is  flurried.  But  there  are 
cases  of  necessity " 

44  Imperative  necessity !" 

44  Yes ;  when  we  have  to  dispense  with  ordinary  rules  of  con 
duct." 

44  All  active  movements  are  of  this  sort,  whether  they  contem 
plate  flight  or  assault.  Your  affair  coir  bines  both.  You  must 


BAGA1I!  39'l 

make  your  attack  .shortly,  for  i,<>u,   retreat  must  soon  follow  tbat 
of  his  lordship." 

"True,  mo.xt  tru. 

"And    how  honorable    is   it    to   cany  off  a  prisoner  even  in 

fight  r 

•It  softens  the  necessity —  it  takes  the  sbaine  from  defeat." 

'•  It  redeems  it,"  said  the  outlaw;  "and  such  a  prisoner,  too! 
Ab  !  Mr.  llillhouse,  you  are  certainly  a  man  to  be  ei.v 

"My  dear  captain,  you   do    iin>*t    certainly  flatter   me.      But  I 

!iorn   under  a  fortunate   star.      I    have    been   thus   fort:. 
nlwavs,  and  particularly  among  the   861.      Remind  me  to  i< 
.11  .some  curiou.x  M;  hich  1  haye  had.      But  not  : 

1  must  leave  you  now.     Forgive  me  that  1  am  thus  abrupt.     But 
1  go  in  obedience  to  your  counsel.      I  go  to  prepare  for  the  war. 
B\   the  way,  those  metaphors  of  your>  were  well  carried  on.      I 
shall  endeavor  to  recall  them  at  the  f:r>t  leisure;    those,  in  v,  : 
you  sp"kr  of  the  prosecution  of  my  present  purpose,  by  sap  and 
storm,  and  so  forth.      I  BUBpect,  captain,  that  you,  too,  1. 
rather  a  fortunate    person,  in   your   own    expr.  long   the 

women.      But,  ynur  field   has  not   been  a  difficult  One,      W 
are  very  ;u-< oxil.le  in  America,  though  I  certainly  do  not  agree 
with    my  old   friend,  but   present    enemy,  the   Marquis  de  Cbas- 
tellux,*  \\liM  >ays   that  a  Frenchman   may  do  anything  with  the 
women  of  your  country." 

"Doe>  he  >.iy  that  .'  —  the  .scoundrel  !"  exclaimed  the  outlaw, 
with  a  hur.st  of  provincial  indignation. 

••  N  m,n  c"iitinued  the  surge. .n.  "had  he  said  Englishman  for 
Frenchman,  there  would  have  been  son,'  in  it  ;  though 

i't    evrrv   1  ;ian,  either,  of  whom    such  a  thing  might 

be  said." 

1  outlaw  and  his  comrade  both  looked  serious.  The  reply 
ot  the  former  was  made  with  some  effort  at  composure,  ami  the 
••wreathed  smile"  upon  his  lips  was  the  roult  of  some  struggle 
with  his  .strrnrr  passions. 

1    No,  oir  ;    the  in.xtanees  are    not  frequent,  I  su>j-«-ct.      But  the 

*  fur  what  tho  Marqui«  dors  say,  *••••  l.i«  "  Tr:ivt-l«  in  .N  •  w 

p.  260.     The  sample  of  cumpluisiince   if  vi-r>  KtcucL  and  amu 


THE  scon. 

opinion  may  naturally  be  entertained  in  its  full  extent  by  out 
who  lia.s  been,  and  is  destined  to  be,  so  uniformly  successful 
everywhere." 

"  Thank  you,  captain — you  are  too  flattering.     But  I  confer 

—  1  hurt'  had  my  successes  —  I  have,  Heaven  knows!" — with 

ir  <>l'  profound  humility,  as  he  bowed  himself  out  of  the 
apartment.  — "  Heaven  knows,  I  have  had  successes  which  might 
well  turn  the  heads  of  wiser  men  than  myself." 

"The  ape! — the  monstrous  ape  !"  exclaimed  Morton,  "  wa.« 
there  ever  such  an  ape  !" 

•'  .V  long-eared  ass!"  muttered  his  more  rude  companion  ;  "a 
long-eared  ass,  if  ever  there  was  one  !  If  JMiss  Flora  don't  pull 
his  ears,  it  won't  be  because  she  don't  sec  'em." 

"  Xo  !  It's  devilish  strange  that  such  a  fellow  should  pre 
serve  his  follies  amidst  all  his  changes,  and  while  pursuing  a  life 
which,  more  than  any  other,  would  be  likeh  to  lop  oil'  tin.-  alVee- 
iations  and  conceits  of  boyhood.'' 

"  Well,  I  reckon,"  said  Gray,  "  he's  just  like  a  great  many 
others,  who  know  they  can't  pass  for  wise  men,  and  are  deter 
mined  to  pass  anyhow.  A  fool  would  rather  you'd  sec  him  as  a 
fool  than  not  see  him  at  all." 

"  Egad  !"  exclaimed  Morton,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a  new 
idea,  "Egad!  I  think  I'll  see  this  fellow  at  his  follies.  I'll 
make  an  effort,  Gray,  to  get  down  stairs  this  very  afternoon." 

"Don't  think  of  siu-h  a  thing."  said  Gray. 

"Ay,  but  1  will!  1  i'oel  strong  enough  for  it,  and  a  change 
>f  objects  will  do  me  good.  1  iong  to  least  niv  eyes,  also,  ujmn 
the  charms  of  the.  fail  Flora.  Zounds!  had  it  bo-n  (Ma;. 
Conway,  who  lay  .sick  and  wounded  in  her  duelling,  \\  hat  a  dif 
ference!  She'll  have  deigned  him  a  glance  before  thi>  !  She'd 
Lave  sat  beside  his  bed,  and  her  hand  would  have,  been  in  his, 
and  she,  would  have  played  with  his  hair,  and  her  long  locks 
would  have  floated  urTon  his  cheek  !  Damnation  !  that  f<  rt'inft 
should  thus  smile  upon  one,  and  blast  the  other  always  I  Thus 
ha*  it  been  from  our  cradle.  Ily  heaven?,  Gray,  I  tell  y  >u,  thai 
man  —  boy  and  man  —  ay,  when  lie  was  but  a  brat  of  ai-  imam 

—  a  squeaking,   squalling,   unconscious   brat  of  an    infant  — this 
jilting  Jexebel,    ;alled    Fortune,  sjiov  ered   her  gold   and  jewels 


H.\(i 

;   to    Iiiin    •  ••.  ith  a 

•aney  hardly  evt-r   known    •  .All  ;i. 

ftjcmed  to  toil    in    l:is    Lehalf,  eve: ytliin-    tended    in    hi- 

ay,  •  .  compell 

curse  tin-  vain  lul.mr  winch  D  only  to  his  «nxul  !  and  T_." 

:'vo    hat!  -aid    flr.v. 

condolingly. 

"  Have  I  !"  cried  the  other,  da>hin^  the  mirror,  upon  which  hr 
had  l.n.ki-,1  at  that  moment,  into  fragment.-  at  his  feet  ;   "  lia 

I  nm.st  read   it    in    the.-e    -M>lie>,  then  I      I  must  1'eel  it 
in    this    feehlene.-s;    in    tliex-    wniind>    \\hicli    letter    '.nv  activity 

i-ythin--,  depends   upon    my 
tnl      N  •.!.-!    (.ray  ;    my  -Mod  i'ortunr  i>  yet 
• 

I't   di.->trn>t    I't.-rtiiiie,  captain.     I'm  think 

your    tViend    <jnite  as  much   as   his.      6he's   helpeil    him   in    - 
tilings,  perhaps;    hut    lio\v  is    ho   any  the.   letter  (W  diem  .'      A 

1'lora  cluing  lor  him  what  she  wouldn't  do  ior  v«'ii.  that's 

nil   in   my  eye.      1    reckon   that  she    h.nks  on    him  now  a  little 

hlacker  than  .-he  ever  l.x.ked,  or  e\or  will  look,  on  yon.      Well, 

.  all  his  {'"itunate  goltinp:,  where  is  ho  .'     Ami 

after  all   ymir  mi>fortunL'S,  wlu-i.  |  /      Why,  he's  jit.st  on 

tlu-  l.rii.k  of  lonng  everything,  and  just  that  nigh  to 

ill  that  hi-  IUM>,  and  ]»erha} 

•  \v,.ui(i  it  ire  : — would  l  \.  .    }>ut,  c. 

v  (liiuht>.      1'  that 

ul'tiul,  than   when  it   v. 

We  h 

•    drau  hack    in  a  man's 
viiai  'iild    that     ielluw,    Mu^rs,    now    tail    us    wit! 

11-  uill  not  fail." 
'  And  Fh.ra  [     G       :    rt'iihl  1  i 

Ai:  i   Ifhat'fl  to  hindi-r  .'      '1'he  OQ€  ttDSWen  I'-T  th- 
Vy,   not    much    to    li'mder,   if  \\  e    u-e    violence.      .M.iin    force 
ta/iy  carry  her   «.lV.  and    shall,  1:1.  ul    J 

If  that    I'm  \\«»rth  —  half   of   all    mj 
—  hut  t-  -y." 


100  THE   SCOUT. 

"  What,  captain,  you're  not  getting  mealy-mouthed  in  the 
business.  Your  conscience  ain't  troubling  you,  sure  ?" 

"  No  !  It's  not  that  I  have  any  scruples ;  but  I  would  enjoy 
the  blessing  of  a  willing  prize,  Gray  !  That,  that  is  every 
thing!" 

"  Lord  knows,"  rejoined  the  other  with  a  yawn,  "  you  had  a 
willing  prize  enough  in  Mary  Clarkson." 

"  Speak  not  of  her.  Gray,"  said  the  other  in  half-faltering 
accents — "  not  now  !  not  now  !'' 

"  She  was  a  willing  prize,  and  one  you  were  willing  enough 
to  get  rid  of.  Give  me  the  prize  that  don't  consent  in  a  hurry 
—  that  gives  me  some  trouble  to  overcome.  I  wouldn't  give  a 
shilling  for  a  wagon-load  of  that  fruit  that  drops  into  the  mouth 
the  moment  it  opens  for  it." 

"Nor  I.  Nor  is  that  what  I  mean,  Gray;  I  mean. only  that 
I  should  like  to  forbear  absolute  violence.  I  do  not  object  to 
the  opposition  or  the  difficulty,  if  I  could  icin,  by  my  own  wit, 
wisdom,  attractions  —  win  through  her  sympathies,  and  not  by 
strife.  And  I  must  still  try  for  this.  I  will  see  Flora  this 
very  evening.  I  will  get  down  to  the  supper-table.  I  am 
strong  enough  for  it ;  and  I  will  sec  for  myself  how  she  manages 
this  silly  witling.  The  truth  is,  Gray,  I'm  not  altogether  satis 
fied  that  she  will  feel  that  scorn  for  the  fellow  that  we  feel. 
We  judge  of  a  man  according  to  his  own  manliness;  but  this  is 
not  the  mode  of  judging  among  women.  They  look  at  the 
streamers  of  the  ship,  and  her  gaudy  paint  ;  while  men  look  to 
see  if  her  timbers  are  good;  if  she  follows  the  helm,  if  she  u 
taut,  and  trim,  and  steady  upon  the  wave.  I  believe  that  whi-rc 
it  depends  upon  a  woman's  heart  —  where  her  affections  arc 
firmly  enlisted  —  she  will  be  true  to  the  death,  and  in  sjiiti-  <>i 
death  ;  but,  when  the  matter  is  referable  only  to  the  jud^im •'.{, 
I  lose  all  confidence  in  her.  She  is  then  to  be  watched  iru 
rowly,  and  guided  cautiously,  and  kept  from  the  brea] 
among  which  she  otherwise  would  be  sure,  to  run.  Now,  1'lma 
Middleton  is  a  woman  whose  mind  will  take  a  lariiv  share  in  her 
affections.  She'll  hardly  sutler  her  feelings  to  jM  eulir/'ly  be 
jrond  the  control  of  ln-r  judgment;  and  it  may  l>e.  advi<-i'  1»- 
tbnt  I  should  assist,  at  her  next  conference  with  thi^  £i:- 


order  to  help  him  somewhat  in  the  e. \p--sure  of  his  more   rnlicn 

"It  don't  need,  v-aptain.      I   reckon  she's  seen  'em  all  for  hrr 
M-lf,  lohg  bel  not  go  tlo\\li.       Better    i. 

all  your  strength  rOr  the  time  when  you'll  need  it  all." 

"What!   man        Do   you    think    I    could    fail   ///<•«/      Impos 
sible!     N"  !  QO!  (.irav.     fou're  getting  quite  too  timid  to  he  a 

ir,  and  I'm  resolved  to  have  a  glance  at  Flora 
Middlcton  this  evening,  though  I  die  for  it.  I  think  the  sight 
of  her  will  give  me  length  fjul  s] 

time    that    1    should    try  my  ..-nt  upon  her.      If  you 

light — it'  she   bcli.  e   Conway  has    been   doing 

i  evil  deeds  which  I  need  not  acknowledge,  and  h.is  di>n. 

him  for   ever   from   he.  then   this   is  the.  very  th; 

my  claims   and    he   successful.      Personally,  there   is   very 

little  dilTerencc   to  the  eye   between  us  ;  unless  these  d a 

I  :  ila1.  lidn't  you  lei  her  know  that  they  wen-  g»t  light- 
ing  with  Clarence  in  defence  of  injured  innocence,  and  all  that  ! 
If  so,  they  will  not  seem  so  very  uncomely.  The 

I    ciicum.-tane»',    (I ray  :     I    flatter  myself  that    the.   contrast 

.cen   myself  and  her  present  suitor,  the  si:  von  in  his 

Jove-colored  will  hardly  he   against   me.      Is  not   that 

r  —  alv  1;  t>  things  something  ?     If  I   cnn 

tuud''  her,  we   diminish   some   of  our  labor,    and  several  of  our 

hd  that  must  he  tried  first.     I  must  play  the  i 
as  well  as  I  can,  before  I  play  the  conqueror.      I   must   won  my 

.  before  I  resort  to  the  last  mode  of  winning  her." 
•    You'd  letter  keep  your  bed  two  days  Ion, 
••  IV:  I    wish    I    had   the 

pick   of  the    Mirgeon's  wardrobe,   for,   of  a  truth,  (I ray.  I    have 
but  little  choice  of  my  own.      I  suspect  my  small  clot!., 
•ill  color:-,  with   the   blood  and  du>t    "f  that    la.-t    biush;   but,  no 
matter  about  the  stains  here  and  there;   if  you  can  o].' 
tolerably  trim.      1  should   rather  be  as  unlike  my  popinjay 
as  possible,  on  .such  an  occasion." 

The  outlaw  kept  his  resolution,  i:  :  all  the  exhortations 

of  his  comrade;    and  t!  ing,  surprised  the  family.  a«.d  the 

inrgeon,  Ilillhouse,  not   the   least,  by  his  sudden  entry  into  lh« 
mile  a  m« 


402 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

A    V,.-|.n\?. 

KI»\VAI:D  MORTON,  could   he  have,  always  kept    liis  !•]. 

;  ance,   would    have    made    a    first-rate    p  ditieian. 
superior  cunning,  but  lie  had,  at  t!i  'me,  too  mud; 

He  yielded  him.M'lf  quite  too  much  up  to  his  sui 
lie  could    ii"t    tamper   and    tritle  with    it.     His   impetr 
feated    his    caution;     and,    in    every  respect    in  which    he    I'liled. 
he  could  reproach  himself  only  as   the   true,  cau-e  . 
The  stuff  which  he  had  expre.-sed    iu  coiiversar';.ii: 
dray,  ahout    the   influence    of  fortune,  did    not    deeeiv.-    himself. 

lie  knew  hetter.  whenever  he  permitted  himself  to  think  g: 

1\-,  and  speak  honestly;  hut  nn-n  get  into  a  hahit  ol'  deceiving 
ihemsrlvo  while  seekini;1  to  deceive  others;  and  fortune  Ins 
;d\\;i  Compelled  !••  bear  ii!--  whining  repreache.-  of  : 

kino!  whenever  their  own  v  i-blonderjng.     J^ri.i' 

them  uinvilling  to  admit  the  fault  to  he  in  themselves,  and  I'm- 
tune  i-natnre'i  damsel,  ,  :.i  regents  the  imputa 

(ions  cast   u]>on   her.      They  clamor   accordingly,  ami  without 
.  at  her  exjieii-r  ;    ami  grow  familiar  with    the    language   <»f 
Unprofitable  ;u)d  unintended  declamation.     It  scarcely  needs  thai 
we   .^hould   remark    how  imfrequeiitly   they  make   acknowii 
incuts  of  her  hounty.    When  BUC  it  i.-  their  own  excellent 

art,  audacious  courage,  admirable  skill,  and  manly  accomplish 
ment,  th.;f  achiev  ihe  finnpuist  ;  and  the  smile,  which  denotes 
their  satisfaction  with  flll  the  world.  In-trays  first  the  gratifying 
conviction  that  they  themselves  are  g»n>d  a^aim-l  all  the  world. 

Kdwnrd  Morton  w;t>  \<\  no  means  ignorant  of  his  own  defect 
Df  character.  He  knew  his  impetuosity  of  Mood,  and  he  feaieo 
it.  It  W88  '•  CCfl  .MX  to  .;:iard  particularly  against  l/idl,  in  all 
his  inteii"'  r~e  witli  Flora  Ml dd let OD.  ( )f  this  he  had  jireviou* 
.  .  .!  int«  Ilect.  The  -.«•-  \ 


simplicity   of   h<  r   . 

silinr    fr:i:  ln-r   ti-ni|--  :ur\vliat    ilil'.ieiilt    to 

him.     Thi- 

.•iddiii"!).    lli:.: 

I 

I  elial'led   •  illforillMtioli    of    the 

:'  their  mutual  i 

ill  amount  of  knowledge  \\-\\\ch 

he  ]'  bich    In-  eUrrlained 

;iiiLrht  kii'.vv  much  or  little, 
llf  ;  .-l:iy 

in  tin?  fruitful   : 

si'.n  t,>  ))lant  \vithiu  IHT  mind.      If  t! 

iftl  a ps  the  difficulty  would  nol  M.-ike 

In-r  t!   '.  hi^  liroth 

natural --and  ..it   will   i.  •<!  to 

. 

huii  .  .  word  —one   ineau- 

\\,,\'^  ],„,]<  —  ;uii]  h.-r  sliai'i.  \^  : 

I    '  r.       \V:'l' 

•  •I    my   1,'. 

:;>on    \vhieli   lie 

per- 

Of   the      ••  •:].!. •«!     wi' 

Ion.      Ii .  1 

He 

I 

»le    • 


104  THK    SCOUT. 

picii-us  than  Morton,  that  she  had  no  hostile  feeling 
at  work  against  him. 

The  inquiries  of  both  were  kind  and  considerate.  Ho  wax 
requested  to  occupy  the  sofa  entirely,  and  to  place  himself  at 
upon  it  ;  a  permission  which  had  the  effect  of  transferring 
the  reluctant  person  of  the  surgeon  to  a  contiguous  chair.  Tin 
deportment  of  this  person  had  been  productive  of  far  more  sur 
prise  to  the  ladies,  than  the  appearance  of  the  outlaw.  Flora 
Middleton  had  informed  her  grandmother  of  the  snit  which  she 
had  rejected  ;  and  it  was,  therefore,  greatly  to  the  wonder  of  the 
one,  and  the  consternation  of  the  other,  that  they  were  com 
pelled  to  witness,  in  his  deportment,  the  language  of  confident 
assurance;  —  of  a  success  and  exultation,  in  tone  and  manner, 
as  unequivocal  as  ever  betrayed  themselves  in  the  action  of  a 
triumphal  lover.  His  smirkings  were  not  to  be  mistaken  ;  and 
the  old  lady  looked  to  the  young  one,  and  the  young  one  re 
turned  the  glance  with  equal  vexation  and  bewilderment. 

The.  arris  al  of  Morton  had  the  effect  of  bringing  some  relief 
to  the  females  of  the  party,  and  possibly  to  diminish,  in  some 
decree,  the  impertinent  self-complaisance  of  the  surgeon.  For 
this,  the  ladies  were  grateful  to  the  outlaw  ;  and  hence,  perhaps, 
the  greater  benignity  of  the  reception  which  they  bestowed  upon 
the  latter.  But  still  there  was  quite  enough  of  pleased  impu 
dence  manifest  in  the  visage  of  Hillhouse,  even  after  the  com 
ing  of  Morton  ;  and  when  the  first  courtesies  which  followed  his 
entrance  were  fairly  ended,  he  took  occasion  to  say  something 
on  the  subject  to  this  happy  person. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Hillhotise,  I  am  surprised  at  the  unusual  degree 
of  happiness  which  your  countenance  exhibits  this  evening. 
What  is  it  makes  you  so  peculiarly  happy.  Have  you  good 
neu  s  from  the  army  ?  Is  his  lordship  about  to  relieve  you.  Do 
you  think  of  Charleston  and  the  next  Meschianza  ?" 

The  surgeon  simpered,  smiled  anew,  and  looked  with  most 
provoking  tv//y/> >.\ cimnt  at  Flora  Middleton.  Before  he  could 
frame  the  intricate  and  exquisite  reply  which  he  was  meditating, 
that  young  lady  availed  herself  of  the  occasion,  to  prove,  as  wel! 
she  might,  that  she  was  no  willing  party  to  the  peculiar  happi- 
which  his  countenance  expressed 


L    VISION.  405 

MI    thank   v   M   far  tlui'  |  :i\v;iy  —  I  was  aboti* 

to  make  the  same  inquiry  ;   for,  really,  I  never  saw  a  gentleman 

nut   on   so  suddenly  the  appearance  of  so  much  joy.      I  fancied 

that   Mr.  Ilillhouse   must    have   had    a   fairy  gift,  as,  you  know, 

happens  to  us  all  in  cluhVnxxl ;   and  then  again,  I  douhted,  for 

there  are  reasons  against   such   a  notion.     Rut,  in  truth,  I  knew 

not  what   to  think,  unless  it  l,e  that   it  is   surely  no   earthly  joy 

which  lias  produced,  or  could  pioduce,  so  complete  an   expres- 

•  »f  delight   in  the  human  face.      I  declare,  Mr.  Ilillhou—    I 

M  l.e  glad  for  mamma's  sake  —  if  for  the  sake  of  no  one 

\\  would  let  us  know  what  it  is  that  makes  you  so 

supremely  happy.    There's  nothing  pleases  old  people  so  much. 

know,  as  the  innocent  pleasures  of  young  ones." 

"Ah.  Mis.x  Flora,  do  i/<>u  then  ask?  It  is,  indeed,  no  earthly 
joy  which  has  made  me  happy." 

;i  are  then  really  happy?"  said  Conway. 

••  K.-ally,  and  in  truth,  I  may  say  so.     A  dream " 

"  What !  and  is  it  a  dream  only?  Well,  I  thought  as  much," 
•xclaimed  Flora. 

"  Nay.  M;>>  Middleton,  life  itself,  for  that  matter,  is  a  sort  of 
;;i.     Hut,  in  ordinary  speech,  mine  is  not  a  dream.     I  have 
had  a  vision " 

'•A  vision!"  exclaimed  Conway. 

"  A  vision,  sir  !"  said  the  old  lady,  putting  on  her  spectacle*, 
and  looking  around  the  room. 

"A  vision!  Do  you  see  it  now,  Mr.  Ilillhouse?  Where? 
What  was  it  like?"  The  demand  of  Flora  was  made  with  all 
the  girlish  eagenie>s  of  one  who  really  l.elicved  in  the  prophetic 
faculty  of  the  pn-sen'  seer. 

.  what  was  i,  'ike,  Mr.  Hillhouse  ?"  asked  the  outlaw."! 
am  very  curious  to  hear!   a  vision!" 

"Like!"  exclaimed  the  surgeon,  "like!  like  an  opening  of 
hea\en  upon  me.  A  Midden  revelation  of  delight,  a  cloud  of 
*lory  •  and  the  shape  within  was  that  of — a  woman!" 

••  Dear  me!  —  only  a  woman!"  exclaimed  Morton,  aftectedly. 

"Only  a  w.-man,  sir!"  cried  the  mrgtOB,  \\ith  an  air  of  pro- 
.'ounde.st  galhii.jry;  "and  what  lovelier  ol.jrct  can  one  see  in 
**his  visihle  creation  —  upon  thr  Mirth  or  in  the  sky " 


406  THK    SCOUT. 

"Or  the  waters  under  the  earth." 

"Nay,  I'm  not  so  deep  in  the  world,  Mr.  Conway,"  said  the 
surgeon;  "hut  when  you  ejaculate  in  wonder,  sir,  because  my 
vision  of  unspeakable  delight  takes  the  shape  of  a  young  and 
beautiful  woman " 

"What's  the  color  of  her  eyes  —  and  hair,  Mr.  Hillhouse?" 
was  the  interruption  of  Conway.  "Give  us  now  a  just  descrip- 
.itm,  that  we  may  judge,  for  ourselves  what  sort  of  taste  you 
.lave  in  matters  of  beauty." 

Hillhouse  looked  to  Flora  Middleton  with  an  expression 
which  said,  as  plainly  as  a  look  could  say  —  "Behold  with  me  ! 
The  vision  is  again  before  us!" 

Flora  Middleton  rose  from  her  chair.  She  seemed  to  antici 
pate  the  words  ;  and  the  scorn  and  vexation  Which  overspread 
her  features,  became  evident  to  all  persons  in  the  room,  except, 
perhaps,  the  single  obtuse  individual  who  had  provoked  them. 
She  was  about  to  leave  the  apartment,  when  the  sudden  and 
hurried  words  of  Edward  Morton  arrested  her,  with  a  new  occa 
sion  of  wonder,  more  legitimate  than  that  which  the  surgeor 
entertained. 

"  By  heavens,  Mr.  Hillhouse,  I  too  have  a  vision,  and  one  fa> 

lovely,  I  think,  than  yours.     Pray,  look  to  that  door,  if  you 

please.     There  was  a  strange  visage  at  it  but  a  moment  ago 

Look!  look!  —  a  man,  not  a  woman;   and  one  not  from  heaven 

I  should  think,  though  it  may  be " 

lief  ire  the  surgeon  could  reach  the  door,  or  Morton  could  fin 
ish  the  sentence,  a  dark  figure  entered  the  room,  confronted  the 
party,  and  taking  from  his  face  a  black  mask,  with  which  if  wa>» 
covered  displayed  to  the  anxious  g^ze  of  the  outlaw  his  own  late 
lieutenant,  and  always  bitter  enemy,  Captain  Stockton.  The 
latter  had  heard  what  Morton  said,  and  concluded  his  speech 
perhaps,  in  the  most  fitting  manner. 

"  From  hell,  you  would  say,  would  you !  and  you  are  right, 
uir.  I  came  from  hell,  and  I  am  come  for  you.  You  are  pre 
pared  for  travel,  I  trust  !" 

The  behavior  of  Morton  was  equally  fearless  and  dignified. 
He  had  a  game  to  play  in  the  eyes  of  Flora,  and  a  diflicult  part 
to  act  in  more  eyes  than  hers.  His  agitation  had  not  been  COD 


A   VISION.  407 

cealed,  at  th.  :  UMi  exhibition  wi.  had   ma,lfl 

l)f   "is    '•  '  but,  when 

t!lt'  int11'  ibtfol,  his  finiiiu'.ss  came  ba 

him;  and  no  f  tiic  pr(.rjpjc(>i  t.oui,i  J,.IVL. 

looked   down   with   more    imlinVreiiee    than    !,«-,   up.,i,    irs    a\vi'ul 
II.-  raised  himself  with  composure  from  the  sofa,  ;m,l 
dw*  of  Storkton  to  the  ladies,  calmly  remarked— 

"  W1'  'i  may  be,  and   whatever  your  pur] 

man,  reiuemher  where  you  are,  and  be  civil  to  the  ladi< 

He  was   an.xwered  l,y  a  grin,  and   yell   of  mingled    exnltation 
and  mal 

I  will  remember.     Don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  for- 

••  ur   V"»-  reo   that  i)5nk-lookin-  -entlcman  in 

'ni('r-  wll()  n»<  --etly,  and  looks  so  frightened.     Ha  • 

.  you  ever  know  the  devil  to  forget  any  of  his  flock. 

B,  yon  know  me,  or  you  should.     You  will  know  mo 

I    am    old    Nick,    himself,   you    may    he    sure    of  that, 

veral  nan,,-.      My  most  ini.  e   IS   \<n- 

•  familiar  to  yon.      1   am  the  captain  of  the  Black 

Riders.     Do  you  dcmj  (hat  /"  he  demanded,  at  the  close,  turning 

Ml  ard  Morton. 

It  did  not  need  that  die  latter  should  answer  this  inquiry,  for 
thr  alarm  which  this  hold  annunciation  produced,  prevented  his 
words  from  lu-in-  jlt.;u,i  i)y  any  wn  ,)Ut  those  (>f  {^  intni(jen 

the    devil    himself,   for    anything    I    know  or 

!  !   yon  are  hold.      Hut  we  shall  see.      You  will  find  me 

a  W*  l!   with,  perhap>.      Y..u    are    my  prim 

'her  that." 

"I  know  n«,t  that!"  exclaim,-!  Morton,  rimng  with  evident 
Puin  ;  '»|u,n  which  he  had  sunk  but  a  ininut. 

and  looking  the  defiance  which  he  had  no  mean 
atitude  was,  however,  threatening j  and  dra-. 

iV.'in  his  belt,  the  intruding  outlaw  h-velled  it  full  at  the  he.; 

:5d    not    shrink.      1 

was  undaunted.      \,lt  a  muscle  of  hi, 
that    inatanl     WWOO     Qray    Middenly    entered    tl:- 
strode   between   them,  and    confronted   Stockton  with   a  weapon 


408  THE   SCOUT. 

like  bis  own.  At  the  same  time  lie  thrust  another  into  the 
hands  of  Morton. 

"  There  are  two  to  play  at  this  game,  Stockton  "  was  the  cool 
remark  of  Gray.  "  Ladies,  leave  the  room,  if  you  please.  We 
need  no  witnesses :  and  you,  sir,  unless  you  can  kill  as  well  as 
cure,  you  may  as  well  follow  the  ladies." 

This  was  addressed  to  the  surgeon. 

"  I  have  no  weapon,"  was  his  answer. 

"  Pshaw  !  look  to  the  fireplace.  A  brave  man  never  wants  a 
weapon." 

Hillhouse  possessed  himself  of  the  poker  with  sufficient  reso 
lution  ;  but  he  evidently  looked  with  great  dissatisfaction  upon 
the  prospect  before  him,  of  soiling  his  dove-colored  suit  in  an 
unexpected  melee.  Meanwhile  the  ladies  had  disappeared,  and 
the  only  social  influence  which  might  have  prevented  bloodshed 
was  necessarily  removed  in  their  departure. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

A    PARLEY. 


"WHAT  does  all  this  mean,  Stockton?"  demanded  Gray. 

"  What  you  see.  The  meaning's  plain  enough,  Watson  Gray," 
was  the  insolent  r^ply. 

"  Ay,  I  see  well  enough  that  you  are  disposed  to  murder  your 
superior;  but  on  what  pretence?  IIo\v  will  you  answer  to 
Lord  Rawdon  for  this  insubordination  —  this  mutiny?  for  it  is  no 
less.  Captain  Morton  has  the  commission  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 
lie  is  your  commander." 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  the  property  of  the  troop,  also." 

"Well,  what  then  —  suppose  we  allow  that?" 

"Thftt  is  enough.     He  is  a  traitor  to  them." 

"Ha!  —  a  traitor!" 

"Yes!   a  base,  dishonest  traitor." 

*  How  ?  in  what  way  is  he  a  traitor  V 


A    PARI.KY.  409 

'  H--  •;  tu  be  true  to  them." 

'  —  W  to  h-d   in  tlieir  Battles  is  to  bo  tnie  to 

them,  lie  certainly  has  '  a  long  time." 

""Mangled   in  ///,•/,  battles !"    quoth    the   other,  with   a 

MI.  Ha-i  he  b.-en  lighting  their  hattles,  with 
:  !  to  his  own.  he  would  have  escaped  his  mangling. 
•Tell  that  to  the  marines.'  We  know  Letter.  \Ve  kno^r  that 
!:••  is  a  traitor  t..  his  comrades.  He  has  sold  them  for  a  price, 
and  has  abandoned  them  to  their  enemies.  His  life  is  forfeit  by 
his  own  lav. 

"  This   is  ;i   mere   fetch.  Stockton.     There   is   no  ground    for 

Mich    pretence.      You   are    the   enemy  of   Captain  Morton.      We 

all    know   that  of  old.      You   are   contriving   it    against  him  to 

>y  him.     Beware  !     You  know  me  quite  as  well  as  I  know 

I  t.dl  you,  that  if  you  go   one  inch   on  either   hand    from 

.u'ht.  your  neck  stretches  on  the  gallows  in  the  sight  of  all 

(  'ha:  ' 

You  don't  hope  to  frighten  me  at 

this  time  of  day  with  your  big  words.      I  know  what  I'm  about. 
lin   M.-rton  is  a  traitor  to  the  troop,  and  we'll  prove  it.      He 
to  his  oath,  aiul  will  be  made  to  answer  all  its  penalties." 
"ThatV  well  enough;  but  what  gives  you  the  right,  till  the 
t!l"!;-  -  to  lift  pistol  to  his  head?" 

"  The  thing's  proved  already." 
"  What!    without  a  trial  .'"   * 
"  We've  tv  ..  witne.-se.s  against  him." 

n  they  /      nVV/  hear  them  — not  you.     You  are  a 
little  too  fast." 

"  Y..II  -hall    hear  them   both.      You   shall   hear  me  too.      I  am 
now  the  captain  of  tin-  They  have  made  me  so  by  their 

-    nothing   DOW,    but    one    of   us  — a 

.  and  waiting  tor  his  senten. 
ekfon  :   I'm  better  04*1  to  acting  than  talking. 
I  know  you  of  nld.  and    I  see.  you're   bent  to   kill   your  capt, 
whether  or  no.      Fou're    hir 

nt  y.-u  pull  trigger  on  him,  that  moment  I  pul 
c;n  }  :  your  ch 


410  IHK  SCOUT. 

"Two  (o  one,  indeed  !  Look  at  the  windows,  man,  and  you'll 
see  tit-oily  to  one/'  was  the  triumphant  response  of  Stockton. 

Gray  looked  as  he  was  bidden,  so  did  the  surgeon  IIillhoi.se, 
but  Morton  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  those  of  his  lieutenant. 

11  Well,  do  you  see?  are  you  satisfied?  There  is  no  chance 
tor  you,"  said  the  latter. 

"  I  see  only  what  I  expected  to  see,"  was  the  answer  of 
Gray.  "  I  did  not  look  to  see  you  venture  here  without  good 
I  ai-king.  I  knew  you  too  well  for  thai.  These  twenty  men 
i  iior.gh  to  cat  us  up.  But,  he  fore  you  can  get  help  from 
them,  we'll  make  mince-meat  of  you.  You  are  a  fool  if  you 
think  otherwise." 

Stockton  looked  upon  his  destined  victim  with  equal  rage  am? 
disappointment. 

"  What  !   you  refuse,  then,  to  surrender  him  to  me  ?" 

"  We  do." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see  what  we  can  do  with  a  few  more  pistols,' 
replied  the  ruHian,  and  with   these  words   he   prepared   to  leave 
the   room.      But   Gray   placed    himw'K    between    him    and    the 
entrance. 

"Stay,"  said  he  — "  nol  so  fast.  Youve  got  into  the  cant- 
brake,  with  the  bear.  You  must  ask  permission  when  you  WAU! 
to  leave  it." 

*'  What  !  do  you  mean  to  keep  me,  .'" 

"Yes;  you  shall  be  a  hostage  for  the  rest.  We  must  hav«- 
(erms  between  us,  Itichard  Storkton,  before  we  let  you  off." 

"  What  terms  .'"   demanded  the  other,  angrily. 

•  Where's  our  guard  ?" 

"Fastened  up  in  the  loghousc,  where  they're  all  drunk." 

"They  must  be  released  ;  and  you  must  answer  to  Lord  Raw 
lor  making  his  soldiers  drunk  and  incapable,  while  on  duty 
British  military  post.'' 

"  Who  says  t  made  them  drunk?" 

"  I 

i  can  not  prove  it." 

'•Yon  shall  see.  1!'  I  •••an  prove  that  one  of  your  troopers 
lid  it,  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  show  that  you  did  not 
employ  that  trooper  in  doing  it  " 


n, 

W :,:> .  .M  (Jray,  I   \\  ill 

"  All  in   -rood   time,  Stockton.     You   don't   suppose   that    I'm 

MI  a  difficulty  with  you  or  any  man  ?      But  it'i 

i  to  ride  HIT  path.     By  tlw 

man.  I'll    tilt   you   into    the   ditch   in   tin1  twinkle  of  a 

V    -.1  talk  ImMlv;   hut  lot  me  tell   you   that   you're   not   alto- 
Morton.     You're  suspected 
ason  to  the  troop,  as  well  a 

"  Tsha,  tsha,  tsha  !      Catch    old    oirds  with  chaff!      Look  you, 
kton  :   don't  yon  suppose  you   can   carry  this  matt' 

•  <  B  Of    shot.     We're   up    to    you    any   how. 
N..W,  look    you  :    if  you   think  that    either    Captain    Morton   or 

-••ape  from  trial,  you're   mistaken.      But  we'll 
'  lb  trial,  or  none  at  all." 
••  \Yell,  e  him  a  fair  trial  (" 

:   not  if  you  hejrin  it  with  the  pistol." 
••  I  only  want  to  make  him  a  prisoner." 
••  Well,  you    .-ha'n't    have   your   wishes  in    that  —  not   while  I 

ready  with    such  a   muzzle   as  this  close    upon   y 
.  hear  me.     Give  orders  to  KUM^U  Parcy,  whose  little  eyes 
B  dancing  at  that  jrlass  there,  and  who's  at  the  Lottom  of  all 
your   mischief — uive  him  orders  to   let  our  men    loose   from  the 
lo^house,  ami  send  them  here  ;    and,  in  the   mean   time,  let   him 
:nen  off  from  the  house.      When  that's  dune,  we'll 
vnn<  ahout  the  trial." 

ber,  and  he    made  a   new   iimvi'inent  as 

•  hi>    .lei, arture,  hut    the    wily   (ira\     was    still    on    tlse 

alert 

'    no! — my  good  fellow!  —  You  mi; 

:,  'til     the    matter's    all    arranged.      You   - 
y  from   whne   y»\\  staml  —  through    the    pane    as   well    as  if 
your  arm  wa*  round  his  neck." 

M  may  lie  imagined.       !  '  vain- 

He  \\  ai    c-  ;;ipelled    to   Mihmit. 
sum:  •    i  would  n-d,  with  his  men  ioll«,<injr,  hut 

..  ned    him,  that,  if  : 
.d'-ne.  he  M-ouhl  hrin^r    io\\  n  on   the  la-ad  of  his  c<  : 


lli  THI. 

the  millets  of  himself  and  Morton.  Sharing  the  chagrin  of  his 
superior,  Darcy,  accordingly,  made  lus  appearance  alone,  and 
received  his  instructions, 

When  he  had  drawn  off  his  followers,  and  disappeared  him 
self,  Gray  persuaded  MorUn  to  retire  to  his  chamber  with  the 
assistance  of  the  surgeon.  This  measure  had,  perhaps,  becou:o, 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  former.  The  efforts  which  he  Ind 
inad«  to  sustain  himself,  as  well  in  the  interview  with  the  ladi-1;:. 
as  in  that  unexpected  one  which  foll.iwed  it;  —  and  the  03 
incut  which  the  latter  necessarily  occasioned,  had  nearly 
hausted  him.  Nothing  but  the  moral  stimulus  derived  from  his 
lu'md —  its  hate,  scorn,  defiance  —  sustained  him  KO  far  from  faint 
ing  on  the  spot ;  and  this  support  did  not  maintain  him  much 
longer.  He  did  faint  when  he  reached  his  own  apartment. 

"And  now,  Stockton,"  said  Gray,  when  they  were  alone  to 
gether —  "what's  all  this  d — d  nonsense  stuff  about  Captain 
Morton's  treachery  and  mine  1  Out  with  it,  man,  that  we  may 
know  the  game." 

"No  nonsense  stuff,  I  assure  you.  The  proof  is  strong 
enough  against  him,  and  brushes  your  skirts  also." 

"  Proof  indeed.  You  see,  I  don't  stop  to  let  you  know,  lieu 
tenant,  that  I  look  upon  you  as  a  man  that  will  contrive,  wher 
ever  you  can,  against  the  captain,  J  know  that  you  hate  him 
— you  can't  deny  it,  —  though  it's  the  strangest  thing  to  me  why 
you  should  hate  a  man  who  has  never  given  you  any  cause  for 
hate,  and  has  always  treated  you  well  and  kindly." 

"Indeed!  Do  you  really  think  so!"  exclaimed  the  other 
hittwly.  "Well,  I  shall  understand,  that,  to  knock  a  man  over 
with  the  butt  of  your  pistol,  and  send  him  afterward  under 
guard  to  prison,  with  a  recommendation  for  the  halbirds,  is  a 
way  to  treat  well  arid  kindly." 

*  Pshaw  !     Is  that  all  V 

•'  411  !  ay,  and  enough  too  !" 

"  My  good  fellow,  you  ought  tj  be  grateful  that  he  didn't  set 
you  a  swinging  from  the  first  tree.  I  heard  of  that  affair,  and 
was  scrry  for  it;  but  you  deserved  all  you  got,  and  something 
more.  He  might  have  hung  you  without  trial,  or  shot  you  down 
where  you  stood.  You  were  in  absolute-  mutiny 


113 

"  We'll  I    ;  -lit  that.    \  '.  '  ,i,l  hia 

chance,  and    I'll   have    mm.-  ,r   from  i:' 

Btufl'  which  is  against  liiin,  the  proof  of  his  treachery  : 
noonday." 

••  Well,  prove  it,  and    he.  must    stand   his   fate.     All   lit*  1 
and  all  that  J  ask,  is  a  fair  trial.     But  what  is  the  sort  of  tr< 

hat  lie's  been  di>ii_ 
"  Making  arrangements  to  fly  and  leave  the  troop  in  the  }\- 

I  TO  carry  oil'  the  plate,  and  m  gTOCfl  from  >. 
bai<>ny   and  _ether   pla<  •;{    Idling   the   troop   cumc 

share.     You   can't   deny  '.hat's    death   by   our   lav, .          and 

bullet  !" 

•  iited  :   but,  again,  I  ask  you,  win-re's  the  proof  {" 
"Hrydone! — II a  !    you    start,   do   you  .'      You   didn't   expect 
that  ?" 

"  Start  ! — a  man  may  well    start   at   lu-aiing  of  such   a  false 
hood   from  the  lips  of  a  fellow  like   Brydonc,  who   was  always 
counted  one  of  the  truest  fellows  we  ever  had." 
"  fei  ;   you  didn't  think  /«-'</  desert  y<>u,  «-h 
"Desert  !  — Look  you,  Stockton,   I   don't    believe   that   Bry- 

I  Midi  a  word.     Did  you  hear  him  yourseh 
"  fat— 1  did." 

"  Where  is  he  ?     Bring  him  before  me." 

"Time  enough.      IJ.-'>  QO<  here  with  us  at  ]>resent.      But  he'll 
be  here  sooner  than  you  wish." 

"  Ah!" — and  the  scout  paused,  while  his  brow    gatln 
deep,  dark   i'..bis   which   indicate. 1   the   pressure  of  accumulating 
thoughts.      He  suddenly  recovered    hi>  composure,  and   tun 
with    a    (jiiiet    smile   upon    Irs    m.>re    biu;,!    c.-mpani«»u.    he 

;  :  — 

"Stnekton,  1  M€  y-.ur  game.      1  ne 
now  convinced  that  you  have  no    laeb   proof,  Uld    '. 

:   t..bl   y..u   anything    bortftl] 
you  know    that  he  was    f.  I  r  trial  /—  Wi 

B  ««nly  Wli  .nd  did  not  you   alvo   know, 

the  law.s,  no  one  could  be  1'Mund    guiltv    l)lit    liv    :n       uitiu-.^ses? 

,  you  only  .speak  of  <ne " 

'  Av,  ay  !    but  the.  .ay.      Don't  suppose 


41-1  IT. 

I  got  so  far  ahead  in  tliis  business  as  to 

blc  in  that  matter.     No  !   no  !     I  hate  Ned   Morton  too  much  — 

'oo  thoroughly  and  1'itterly  —  to  leave  my  desire  for  revenge  to 

a  doubtful  chance.     The  whole   matter  was  cut  and  dry  before 

;ime  down  from  'Ninety-Six.'     We  have  Iwo  witnesses  of 

lilt." 

"  Well,  who's  the  other?"  asked  Gray  witi  seeming  indiffer 
ence. 

aac  Muggs !" 

"  What  Isaac,  the  one-armed  !  But  you  d)n't  call  him  a  man, 
surdy  —  he's  only  part  of  a  man  !" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  stand  for  such  an  argument  as  that  ?" 
demanded  Stockton  gravely. 

"  Oh,  no  !"  responded  the  other  with  a  laugh.     "Let  him  go 

for  what  he's  worth.     But " — here  his  indifference  of  man 

ner  M-enied  to  increase,  as,  yawning,  he  inquired — 

"But  when  are  these  witnesses  to  be  hfire  ?  When  may  we 
confront  them  ?" 

"  Sooner  than  you  wish,"  was  the  reply.  "  We  look  for  Bry 
done  to-morrow,  by  the  dawn  ;  and  as  for  Isaac  Muggs,  we  ex 
pect  to  catch  him  very  soon  after,  if  not  before.  We  hope  to 
be  in  readiness  along  the  river  banks,  to  see  whether  he  brings 
up  the  boats  which  are  fit  to  carry  such  a  valuable  cargo,  as 
you've  got  ready  here  to  put  in  them." 

"  Ah  !  —  so  \  ou've  got  the  Cougaree  under  guard,  have  you  ?" 
demanded  the  other  with  the  same  seeming  indifference  ol 
manner. 

'•  It   will    lie   somewhat   difficult  for  him   to  find    ijim   without 
finding  //.v,"  replied   Sf.K-ktnn   with  a  chuckling  sort  of  tii- 
itnph. 

much    for    Isaac,    then.      1    suppose   he    brings    Bry.lom- 

-'  with  him  .'"   was  the  carele-sly  expressed  inquiry  ot'diay. 

"  No  !    no  !     lie  will  be  more,  c<  rtain  to  arrive,  and  conic*  UMIC 

;gly.      Ilawdon  despatch*1  I  niin  below  with  a  letter  to  C'olo- 

•Mrwart.  at    Fairlawn,  and  he  will  be  here  too  soon   i'or  your 

II"  COD  68  bv  the  roa.l.      Do  not  think  we  ventured  up- 

mi    t':is    business    without    preparation.      We  made    nice  calcula- 

and    timed   everything   to   the   proper  i:i"i"ent.      Brydon«» 


A    PARL  416 

sleeps  to-night  at    Maifi:  '  may  expect  him   hero 

l.v    Minriso.      We'll    IT    TO  •    f'T   the    trial    by 

'   l"ck  to-morrow.      At  1-  m   take  his   testimony 

ami  wait  for  M  But!  calculate  on  ln.th  hefore  that  time." 

Watson    Q  •mod   for  a  inonioiit    lost   in   thought.     His 

dark  hushy  1"  E  bent  down  almost  to  the  concealment  of 

'•  It  >eom>  to  \\orrv  you  !"  said  Stockton  with  a  sneer. 
"  Worry  me  !      No!  not  8  Ye  only  worrying  your- 

thinking  of  a   very  different  matter,"  replied  the 
other  will  ailo. 

••  Wdl,  d  ;'ll  be  ready  for  the  trial  then?" 

"We're    read}     >/o>r  ;   ready   always   fur   fair   play.      But  you 

your  troop." 

well.     I  have  no  objection  to  that,  fur  I  can  draw  'em 
en  again  at  a  moment's  warning.     If  you  don't  keep  faith  you'll 
t   for  it.     I'm   agreed  to  anything  that   don't  prevent  the 
tiial.      Where  shall  it  be  — here  P 

••  11     ,   '      (  lli,  in-  !      T«>  have  your  sixty  men  rushing  upon  us 
at  close  mu//.le-(|iiarters!      No,  no  !     We'll  have  it  in  the  w. 
iH-ar  the  river,  where   my  half-^  -:-kets  may  he  COTered 

i nd   he  something  <>f  a  match  for  your  troop. 
the  women,  you  k: 

•  Well,  I'm  willing.      There'>  a  clayey  bluff  just  above,  facing 
the  i  I         '  's  something  of  an  opening,  and  I  reckon 

graveyard.      I    sre  a  i  •  there  and  a  cross 

upon  it.      Let  tin-  trial  be  there." 

"  A  iieu  -rave  and  a  ci  it  !"  mused  the  other.     "That 
mu>t   be  Mar.  t  the  cross  !      All!    perhaps 
Flora    had    that    dott<  a    good    girl!      Widl,    I'm 
r  l,r  there — just  at  the  turning  of  the  sun  at  noon." 
••  K    .-p   your  woi,:  ,rst   enemy  of  Ned  Mor 
ton " 

"Yourself!" 

"The   same!      His  worst    enemy  can   ask    nothing  more.     If 

w<3  don't  convict  him " 

44  You'll  swallow  the  (  ' 

"Ton  may   laugh    m.\\ .  bul    1    doubt  if  you  will  to-morrow ; 


Till-;    SCOUT. 

and  I  know  that  Ned  Morton  will  be  in  no  humor  to  laugh,  un 
less  he  does  so  because  he  likes  dancing  in  air  much  better  than 
most  people." 

"  Well,  well,  Stockton;  we  shall  soon  see  enough.  To-mor 
row's  never  a  day  far  off,  and  here  comes  Darcy  to  relieve  you. 
But  as  for  your  hanging  Ned  .Morton,  why,  man,  your  own  troop 
will  hardly  suffer  it." 

"Ha!  will  they  not?  Is  that  your  hope  ?"  said  Stockton, 
with  an  exulting  snet-r. 

"  Perhaps  !"  replied  the  the  other,  with  a  smile. 

The  entrance  of  Darcy  arrested  the  conference. 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

A    WITNESS    SILENCED. 

THE  business  of  the  two  had  reached  its  close  before  the 
return  of  Darcy  with  the  British  guard  which  he  had  released. 
Some  other  matters  were  adjusted  between  them,  and  Lieuten 
ant  Stockton  was  at  length  permitted  to  depart,  while  Waist. n 
dray,  at  the  same  moment,  received  from  Darcy  the  still  half 
drunken  soldiery.  It  may  be  supposed  that  neither  Stockton 
nor  Darcy  was  altogether  so  well  satisfied  with  the  result  of 
their  expedition.  The  game  was  fairly  in  their  hands;  but  the 
Citation  of  Stockton,  arising  from  a  too  great  feeling  of 
security,  and  a  desire  to  exult  over  his  threatened  victim,  led  to 
that  exposure  of  his  own  person  of  which  Watson  Gray  so  read 
ily  availed  himself.  The  reproaches  of  the  subordinate  were  not 
spared. 

"  But  it  comes  to  the  same  thing,"  said  Stockton.  "  He  is 
o:i!I  mirs.  He  is  pledged  to  appear  at  the,  trial." 

"  Ay,  but  suppose  he  does  not  come  ?" 

"Then  the  delay  follows,  and  no  worse  evil.  We  have  men 
enough,  surely,  to  pull  thr  old  ],,.usc.  about  his  ears." 


417 

"  Wi:h    :'  :    halt'  «.f  them!      A   «lrat    bargain,"  i«  pliec, 

Lne  •  I  lieutenant. 

id   either.      We  can   starve  them  out  in  three  'lay:-. 
Hut.   thei.  ar   that  Gray  will    not    keep   his  word,      'i 

will  eomf   to    the    trial.      They  Hatter   th-  hall 

M  DggS,  W  horn    the\  away,  ami    I 

t«»hl  them  of  tin  other  witness  than  Brydone.  I  said  nothing  of 
that  skulk,  Joe  Tanner,  lie  and  1'i'ydi.ne  arc  enough,  and 
knowing  the  M  -,  they'll  o>me  boldly  on 

ground,  and  walk  headlong  into  the  trap  we've  set  lor  t:. 

well  you've  had  that  eaution,  S:...-ktuii  ;  for,  of  a  truih 
have  so  far  played  yi.nr  cards  mO8\  rashly.  We've  got 
•  rate  men  to  deal  with,  and  tlia,  Wa1  :norc 

in  one  little  linger  than  yon  carry  in  your  whole  1 


That's  not  so  civil,  Mr.  I»any.' 


!    hut  it's  true  ;   and    when   you're   trifling  with  the  garno 
of  h.ith  of  us,  it's  nec-.'ssary  to  jerk  you  up  suddenly  with  a  sharp 
truth  now  and    then,  hy  way  of  a  curh  to  your  paces.      Th 
another  .matter  that  your  proceeding  has  spoiled.  Stock: 

•'  What  was  tha: 

"  The  gutting  of  the  house." 

"  <  )h  !   that  follows,  of  course. 

"  A  hird  in  the  hand,  you  know.     They  may  have  time  uow 
to  hide  away  the  val.r-iMes." 

"It    will    he   a    clo36    hole    that    our    hoy.-,    can't    creep    into 
Wh-  we    CUM     full"  MO    doubt, 

Pun-y.  t'  '.ven  uji  on'    c':  •  ..h-.l  u>. 

only  putting  morrow  v.-hat    :nigh;    havi1    heen  doi. 

day.      <  )ur    ;t;  11    l-e    o?ily  M-    much    the    ki-.Mie: 

•  lelay.      Did  \  . 

"  Ay  —  did  I  n<v.  j"  replied 
stipulate    :  ,      .    :  -vallow  all—  r 

nge,  riches  —  .-in-!    still   yearn    j-»r    i.eauty.      Si  >.'>-)  to 

my  B] 

"  Vonr>  !       Pooh,   I<...<\!    what    should   give  you   a 
tooth  /      Don't   think  of  it. 
npon   her.      !;'>  a  part   of  my  r 

Burned  Ned    M  liead  —  it        .  .e    bin    bif-reher 

is  ' 


IIs  Tin: 

lit  at  made  me  blunder  —  and  mili'Sf  I  show  liitn  that  slie,  too,  is 
•-it  my  mercy,  my  triumph  will  1m  only  half  complete." 

Darcy  muttered   something  about   the-  "  lion'.s  .share,"  and  his 
•ring  reminded  Stockton  that  he  was  too  valuable  an  a- 

trifled  with. 

"  1'shau  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  let  us  not  squabble  about  a  w 
1  i\»i}'i  care  a  shilling  about  her.     Hut  she's  common  stock, 
k.nnv.      It  inn-it  be  according  to  the  will  of  the  troop." 

We  forbear  listening  to  other  heads  of  their  private  arrange 
ments.      They  proceeded    to    rejoin   their  men   and  to  see  about 
flie  disposition  of  their  sentinels,  in   secrecy,  along  the  bank 
tic-    river,  wherever  they  thought  it   probable  that  a  boat  could 
•  :  a  landing.     They  did  not  bestow  a  very  close  watch  along 
the,  land  .-ide.  or  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  hou^e,  t'-n 
they  well   knew  that  Morton   could   not  escape-,  in   his   present 
condition    of  feebleness,  by  any  but   a  water   conveyance,     lie 
•heir  chief  object,  and  they  regarded  his  fate  as  now  una- 
roidable. 

^•ifety  of  the  landlord,  Muggs,  it  has  been  already  seen, 
secured  by  the  persevering  and  sleepless  efforts  of  his  new 
comrade,  John  Bannister.  When  the  latter  had  swam  the  river, 
and  joined  him  on  the  other  side,  the  two  l.iid  themselves  quietly 
down  to  sleep  in  a  place  of  security,  having  resolved  to  get  up 
a:  ;ui  early  hour,  before  dawn,  and,  urging  their  boat  up  stream 
\\5tli  united  paddles,  keep  on  the  sa^ie  side  of  the  river  until 
they  could,  v.  ithoat  detection,  cro.:s  to  ih  i.  on  which  the  enemv 
lay.  Their  aim  u  as  to  reach  a  poll  I  '.he  usual  landing 

places  of  the  barony,  and  out  of  the  leach,  accordingly,  of  the 
line  «.;'  r-r,i:ini'l>,  each  of  which  John  Bam.'st-  ,-  had  beheld  \\hen 
be  was  placed. 

The  worthy  scout  was  ivolv.-d  to  do  all  th;.f  he  might,  at  any 
ri  ,!<.  for  the  safety  of  Flora,  and  for  her  r>  m  the  nil! 

villfiiiM   by  whom  her  house  was  su.-i"in>.ded.     He  did  not  cmi- 
:ate  of  affairs    bet'.  u-r  captain  of  the 

and   his   troop;   and   d!d    r.ut  fancy  that   there  \vai 
any  cause    of  apprehension    for   the    fate   of  Kdward    Conway, 
though   such  a  conviction  would  have  given   him  but  little  un- 
ess, 


A     \VIT\i  ' 

At  tin-  <  k  » 

f  II,-.  the  Hint  of  \vhieh  he  carci'ully  62 

'saving   jiiit   h'       -  inditio;,    f<>r  a 

mi. 

Tlu-  \vik  '•  i  'lt-     '!'!" 

,  until    tl  \v'th   the   lu-1 

tin-  ,  .:id    the-  j  ...Hand  where    slept    lit 

ircely  pulled  i. 

human  t; 
m  <-i'  \\hicli,  ami   ft] 

•  •(I    liai-k  iV'»!n   the 

shore,  but   tlu-    frii-mil^  I    i  Mm. 

Hi-  al  drunlv  .    the 

.  ilinu^li  h,.w  that  liail  1-  .'.out,  lie  cnuM  tell 

hut  little.     Ti.  tln-ir  cup.-,  !sa.i  evidently 

.iin   with   tin-  they  ;'m:ii-hf>!    him   v/ith  a 

portion  of  tin-  this  ho  drank  nothing, 

and  the  COBSequei 

' 
to  the  spot  wheie  his  i!au-h: 

II,  '.ination  ;   nor  did    1'anni  ftCI  an- 

iiiin  on  t!.  B  Qt   with   li  • 

of  a  stout  lellow.  \  dly,  and  win-  : 

to  secure  hi^  ritlo  fn>ni  luss  in  all  his  i:ii>ehanr«'s.     'i'hia 

:,is   arm,  and  IJaunister  contented  l»ii'. 
with  instnu-tiu^:  him  to  -«•;  i;  in  i 

••  Sre.    to    the    tlint    ;.  .    .lake,   for    the   time's 

:.iiu£  wln-n  I  \\oul  you  mi-  }»ole- 

It*  tl.  Mg  the 

ouila\\s  in  tbl 

.  and  an.\'.< 
with   ilillerri! 

\,hich  tl.- 

ladies  of  tin  that  wild   and  fearful  i 

niji1  •  iiing 

',.      But,  in   tin  .       •.!<!    Morton,  a    more  Bteru 

; 


120 

the  gloom  of  liis  midnight  watch,  and  to  darken  the  aspect!  of 
the  two  wlio  sat  there  in  solemn  ('(inference. 

Watson  Gray,  though  he  naturally  strove  to  infuse  a  feeling 

of  confidence  into  the  mind  of  his  superior,  could  not,  ncverthe- 

'uthvly  divest  his  thoughts  of  the  sombre  tinge  which  they 

-sarily   tr.uk    from    his   feelings,  in   considering   the   events 

h   the   coming  day  was  to  bring  forth.     There  was  some- 

tf»n|  rively  humbling  to  a  manlike  Edward  Morton,  in 

of  cv6r  being  tried  for  treachery  by  those  whom  he  had 

BO  i .I1! en  l.-d  ;  —  and  to  be  placed  for  judgment  before  one  whom 

^   so  heartily  despised  as  Stockton,  was  no  small  part  of  the 

annoyance..     The  assurances  which  Watson  Gray  gave  him  did 

i;-)t  touch  this  part  of  his  disquietude.     The  simple  assurance  01 

his  ultimate  release  could  not  materially  lessen  the  pang  which 

he   felt   at  what   he   conceived   to   be  the  disgrace  of  such  a 

situation. 

"  Life  or  death,  Gray,"  he  said,  "is  after  all  a  trifling  matter. 
I  haw  the  one  here,"  touching  the  hilt  of  a  dirk  which  he  had 
just  placed  within  his  bosom,  "  or  here,"  and  his  fingers  rested 
on  ihe  handle  of  the  pistol  which  lay  beside  him  on  the  bed. 

"  Either  of  these  will  secure  me  from  the  indignity  which  this 
base  scoundrel  would  delight  to  fasten  upon  me;  and,  as  for 
liiV,  I  believe  I  love  it  no  more  than  any  other  soldier  who 
knows  the  condition  of  the  game  he  plays  and  the  value  of  the 
fctake  he,  iay.s  down.  But,  to  be  hauled  up  and  called  to  an 
swer  to  such  a  scamp,  for  such  a  crime,  is,  really,  a  most  shock 
ing  iH-ces-.ity.  Can't  v/e,  mend  the  matter  no  way?  Can't  we 
tamper  \vith  some  of  the  men?  There  are  a  few  whom  you 
could  rnana-re..  There's  Butts,  both  the  Maybins,  Joe  Sutton, 
Peters,  and  half  a  dozen  more  that  were  always  devoted  to  me* 
though,  perhaps,  among  the  more  timid  of  the  herd.  If  you 
could  manage  these  ;  if  you  could  persuade  them  to  join  us  here., 
with  your  bull-head  Briiish  allies,  we  should  be  able  to  make 
fight,  and  finish  tin-,  copartnership  in  that  manlier  way.  By 
llrawn,  I'm  stirred  up  with  the  notion!  You  must  try  it!  I 
shall  be  strong  enough  for  anything  when  the  time  comes;  and 
I  feel,  that  in  actual  conflict  with  that  villain  Stockton,  I  could 
not  help  but  hew  him  to  pieces.  Bring  us  to  this  point,  Gray! 


A   w  421 

Work,  work,  man.  if  you    love    me  !      If  ymir  wits    sleep,  wake 
tin-in.     XM\V  .11-  never!      I..t   t1  mo  from  this  d — nable 

situation  and  bitter  >h:r 

Tin-  c..nfed»  rate  >hook  liis  head  despondingly. 

"X  •       •  .,],]  ^(.t  at  these  fellows,  or  any  lialf  dozen 

in  tl  :i,  y  might  lie  bought   over   or    pc-rsuaded   in    some 

*vay  iliat  the   difficulty  is   in 

ting  at  thrin  I      Wen-  I  to  ventUI  J  them.  I  should  be 

1   Stockton   to-night.      I    should  he  ham- 

i  hand  and  font,  with  no  such   chance  of  making  terms  of 

-  he  had.      Xo/ captain.  I  see  no  way  to  avoid  the  trial. 

must   make   up  your  mind  to  flat.     But   I   don't  see   that 

sill  have  anyt! .':  g  more  to  apprehend.     Muggs  is  out  of  the 

way,  and  won't  In-   :      k   in   three  ilays.     He's  safe.     One  wit- 

:^h,  ;!.n«l  as  for  Brydone — " 

1   I) — n  him  !      D — n   him!      The  douhlo-dyod   traitor!      And 
paid  so  well  too  !" 

ihe  iiiistako,  I'm  thinking.     He  got  too  much  for 

that    last    hu.-iuess.      He    considered   it   the   last  job  that  you'd 

•   him.  and    he    immediately  cast   ahout    for   a   new  cm- 

1-1"\ .  him,  hut  I  do  not  think  he'll  keep  him  long." 

••  May  the\    cut  each   other's  throats!"  was  the  devout  prayer 

of  the  outlaw,  to  which  Gray  responded  with  a  deliberate 

"  Al: 

What  was  further  said  between  the  two  that  night,  was  of  the 

fiame    temper   and    concerned    the   same   business.      Their  hopes 

and   frars.  plans   and    purp<  r  as  Watson  Grav  deemed 

•  •ntial  that    his   principal   should   know  them,  underwent,  ae 

•isral  they  >lnmbl.  a  ju'olon^ed  examination.     I'n-.t   Gray 

•hat    the    outlaw    would    need  all   hi>    >trengtli    for  whatever 

ight    follow,  and    determined,   therefore.   ujn»n   leaving 

him  Besides,  he   had   some   -  "ikin^inhis 

mind,  whii-h    he   did    DOl  and  which   it 

iry  that  he  sbonh!  ,  ntirely  to  himself. 

He  had  already  taki-n  care  that  of  men,  by  this  time 

quit-  .  -liould  be  strictly  cautioned  on  the  subject  of  their 

i  for  the  night,  an  '.  within  the  dwelling,  as  to  baffle 

itten  pt  at  surjiri.--  It    fr-.m  without.      The 


422  TIM 

did  not  now  need  much  exhoi  tation  to  vigilance.  They  had 
already  had  some  taste  of  the  fruits  of  misbehavior,  as  in  their 
boa.-tly  incapability  ot'  resentment,  the  outlaws  had  an; 
themselves  with  a  rough  pastime  at  their  expense,  in  which 
cuffs  and  kicks  were  the  most  gentle  courtesies  to  which  the 
victims  were  subjected. 

Having  exhorted  them,  with  every  possible  counsel  and  argu 
ment,  Gray  summoned  the  surgeon,  Hillhouse,  to  a  brief  eonfer- 
Ynee,  and  assigned  to  him  o-rrain  duties  of  the  watch  also. 
Though  a  frivolous,  foolish  person,  lie  was  temperate,  and  the 
chief  object  of  Gray  was  to  keep  the  soldiers  from  any  es 
during  an  absence  which,  it  seems,  he  meditated,  but  which  he 
did  not  declare  to  them,  or  to  his  associate,  Morton.  It  was  only 
necessary  to  intimate  to  Mr.  Ilillhouse  what  havoc  the  lilack 
Riders  would  make  if  they  could  once  lay  hands  upon  his  varie 
gated  wardrobe,  to  secure  all  the  future  vigilance  of  that 
tleman. 

All  matters  being  arranged  to  his  satisfaction,  Gray  stole  forth 
at  midnight  from  the  mansion,  none  knowing  and  none  su-pect- 
ing  his  departure  ;  and,  with  the  practised  arts  of  a  veteran  M-out, 
he  contrived  to  take  from  the  stables  the  fleetest  horse  which 
they  contained.  Him  he  led,  as  quietly  as  lie  could,  into  th<. 
woods  which  lay  to  the  west,  and  remote  equally  from  the  en 
campment  and  sentinels  of  the  Hlack  Riders.  Their  watch  was 
maintained  with  strictness,  but  only  on  the  river  >ide  ;  and,  un 
interrupted,  Gray  soon  succeeded  in  placing  himself  iii  full  c 
of  the  forests,  and  out  of  the  neighborhood  of  the  enemy's  sen 
tinels.  He  kepi  within  the  cover  of  the  woods  only  so  ho. 
sufficed  for  safety  ;  then,  hurrying  into  the  main  road,  he  pur 
sued  his  way  down  the  country,  at  a  rapid  canter. 

The.  object  of  Watson  Gray,  in  part,  may  be  conjectured,  by 
a  recurrence  to  that  portion  of  the  dialogue  which  he  had  with 
Stockton,  in  which  the  latter  accounted  for  the  alienee  of  Hry- 
done,  the  most  important  witness  whom  he  could  arrav  against 
the  fidelity  of  Captain  Morton.  He  determined  to  go  forth, 
meet  Brydone,  and  bribe,  or  dissuade  him  from  his  meditated 
treachery.  lie  had.  if  the  reader  will  remember,  wormed  out 
of  the  les>-  acute  and  subtle  Stockton,  the  cause  of  llrydone'y  ab- 


•vhicli   lie  \v..uM    •  .-,!,],. 

is  arrival  in  the  morni))-.      To   keep    him   back   from  tl;. 
pn.achim  fiial  he  helieved  to  he  I,,M,V  important  than  lie  ali 
t"    'ipl"'.-!!-    t..    Morton.      H,.   knew  that    their  enen, 
|l(<   al'1(>    '  tbc  landlord,  u 

fin-  .-.Hotted  tiin.-,  even  if  they  succeeded,  finally,  in  secnri;  . 

—and   he  did 

with   some   other  witness.  of  wh«,m  lie  said  nothing.  j,,  , 

•  •etu.-illy  to  dehule   the    defendant    into   the    field.      Tlii> 

.  <•  already  >een  from  the  confer- 

t  kton  and  his  more  >nl.tle  coniederatc,  Darcv. 

"At  all   events."  s..lill,(|ui/ed  tlu>  st-out,  "at   all    events,  it  will 

;.     Li    keep    r.ry.h.ne   ..sit    of  the  way.      I   must 

him    on    another  jnurn.-y.      If,  |    ^lartin's    ta 

—  Afnrtii.'  ui-ft-en  miles.      lie  car 

at    a   doU--ti-,,t    in    three    hours.      II.-  will    j.r.d.aldv  >?art   at 

.  ralenlate  to  take  his  hrral.  ,e    haronv.      That 

:iV  cah-ul;itio1i.      I  mi^t  LaihY  him.      liry.lmie*  mn>t  put 
atiiiL'  that  hreakf.v 

utinue  hi- 

whirh    he    started.      II,-   dren    uj'.  ftftei     tte    firsl    !  .  and 

:vd  him   to   trot   and   walk    alternately.      He    had    not 
OH,  when  day  hn.ke  np,,r;  the  f,,ri'>ts,  and  the  ' 
-lit   w.-re  the:  ^ur. 

'!  n]M)n  \\hich  he  travcllcil.      P,y  the   time   the 

he  intended.      It  wa-  u»t  a  part 

"''  I''-    pollCJ     tO    he    8660  at   Martin's  tavern;  §1  all.  hy 

;'".v  the  fact    hereafter    that    he  ; 

i  which  I  :,.,}. 

.    ahle    U)  .  .iml    provide  , 

con;:  i,  ;; 

h-nlation    of  i1  all(] 

He  .ji;:etly  turned    into  th  )H.,1 

a  thicket  which  promised   him  sullicient  concealment  for  his  pur- 

ll('i'1    he    iv  (  xamined    his    pistols,    which    were    h-aded, 

Bach,  with  a  hrace  of  hull.  ••  ,i,,Lr  with    his 

the    tiin:  .    with    the    horn    handle    of  his 

knife,  and  adjusted  the  in    his   hell    1  .     •  age 


124  THE   SCOUT. 

IK'  did  not  dismount  from  his  saddle,  but  took  care  to  place  him. 
self  in  such  ,1  position,  on  the  upper  edge  of  the  thicket,  as  to 
i-cmain  unseen  from  below  ;  while,  at  tho  same  time,  the  path 
was  so  unobstructed  from  above  as  to  permit  him  to  emerge 
suddenly,  without  obstruction  from  the  undergrowth,  at  any  mcv 
mi-lit,  into  the  main  track. 

In  this  position  lie  was  compelled  to  wait  something  longei 
than  he  had  expected.  But  Watson  Gray,  in  the  way  of  busi- 
ne>s.  was  as  patient  as  the  grave,  lie  was  never  trembled  with 
that  fidgety  peevishness  which  afilicts  small  people,  and  puts 
them  into  a  lever,  unless  the  winds  rise  from  the  right  quarter 
at  the  very  moment  when  they  are  desired  to  blow.  He  could 
wait,  not  only  without  complaint  or  querulousness ;  but  In- 
pared  himself1  to  icait,  just  as  certainly  as  to  perform.  To  suf 
fer  and  to  endure,  be  bad  sufficient  c«>mmon  sense  philosophy  to 
perceive,  was  equally  the  allotment  of  life. 

His  patience  was  sufficiently  tested  on  the  present  or 
lie  vail r;l  fully  two  hours,  and  with  no  greater  sign  of  disci -u- 
tent,  than  could  be  conjectured  from  his  occasionally  transferring 
bis  right  and  then  his  left  leg  from  the  stirrup  to  the  pommel  .  f 
his  saddh1.  simply  to  rest  the  members,  as  they  happened  to  be 
more  or  less  stiffened  by  the  want  of  exercise.  All  the  while, 
his  eyes  kc.-nly  pien-ed  the.  thicket  below  him,  and  his  ears 
pricked  up,  like  his  steed's,  wliii  h  he  also  cautiously  watched, 
with  the  habitual  readiness  of  a  practised  woodman.  At  length 
the  tedium  of  his  situation  was  relieved.  The  tramp  of  a  horse 
heard  at  a  small  distance,  and  as  the  traveller  came  up  to 
the  thicket,  Watson  Gray  quietly  rode  out  beside  him. 

"Ha!  ^vVatsmi  Gray!"  exclaimed  the  new-comer,  who  was 
the  person  expected. 

"The  same,  Joe  Brydone,"  was  the  answer  of  Gray,  in  tones 
which  were  gentle,  quiet,  and  evidently  intended  to  soothe  the 
alarm  of  the  other;  an  alarm  which  was  clearly  conveyed  in 
his  faltering  accents,  and  in  the.  sudden  movement  of  his  bridle 
hand,  by  which  his  steed  was  made  to  swerve  away  to  the  op 
posite  side  of  the  road. 

If  bis  object  was  flight,  it   did    not   promise  to  be   successful 
Tor  the   powerful   and  fleet  ai  inial  bestrode  by  Gray  left  him  in 


1  -••") 
unwelcome  comp;r 

Tlii-  by  the  friend 

lv  •  '  with  him 

at  the  same  pace  which  lie  M  ing  when  they  enCOtfflb 

Uut  his  1  let      He  ha«l  all   the  misgiving* 

'tis  traitor,  apprehensive   for  his  troasonal 
On  this  head  (iray  did  i,  long  in  d 

••  r\  c  be< ;.  look) 

"Ah!    why  —  what's  the  matter?" 

••  N.iv,  nothing  much,  I  reckon,  only  —  you're  expected  at  the 

:iy." 
"  I  know  :  —  I'm  on  my  way  there  now  " 

BCtfl  von  !" 
••  Who  :  the  captain  ?"  with  some  surprise. 

B  charge  is  made  against  him  by  that  scoundrel 
aid  he  wants  you  to  disprove  it." 
••  What' >  that  .'"  demanded  the  other. 

••  Why,  i; cither  more  nor  le>s,  than  that   the  captain   has  been 
making  pu-parati.  I  vl  the  troop,  in  violation  of  his  oath." 

11.  hut  Gray,  tliat'.s  the  truth,  yon  k:  .ydone 

with  more  confidence. 

••  ll<>w!    I  know!  —  I  know  nothing  about  it." 
••  Whv.  jrefl  von  do.      Didn't  you  send  me  yourself  to  Isaac 
id  tell  me  what  to  say  ami 

"JJry done,  you're  f«"ii;>h.     If  1  >ei:t  y..-.-.  didn't  I  ; 

.  "injr;   and   isn't    it    a   part    <»f  «mr   hu.-i'.uv^   that  you  si. 

.  t  it'  you  keep  the  mo;, 

and   got    paid    t<>r   ke.-j  !  ;    ami    n«.w  we  e.\ 

y«.u  to  n-,i  up  and  jirove  this  fellow  Stockton   to  bo  a  liar  and  ail 

••  1  can't  d«-  it,  (Jray."  said  the  other,  dogfredly. 

\ud  why  ii"t  '      '\"i  :icas   to   be   got  w! 

the  la-t  (  ;.me  trom." 

••  I  don't  know  thai, '  wu  the  u-ply. 

ill   see.      1  iruincas,  if  you 

ith,  M   1  tell  it  t..  you,  mi  this  trial." 

•  Id  the  truth  Stock- 

U-n  re  than  him." 


426 

•    you    were    linger   a    Iliistak  fellow 

Don't  1)0.  foolish  now.    You  will  only  l,e  making  n  lasting  enemy 

'  .ptain  Morton,  who  has  always  been   your  friend,  and  who 

will  never  forget  your  treachery,  if  you  appear  in  this  business 

,:;m." 

"His  enmity  won't  count  for  much  when  they've  tried  him, 
Gray.  lie  must  swing." 

"  But  mine  will  count  for  something.  Would  you  be  making 
an  enemy  i»f  me,  also?  If  you  go  forward  and  swear  against 
him,  ye;;  swear  against  me  too." 

"I  can't  hclji  it— -it'*  the  truth." 

"Hut  where's  t!,e  necessity  of  telling  the  truth  at  this  time 
<•;'  day  .'  What's  the  use  of  beginning  a  new  business  so  late 
in  life?  You've  told  Stockton,  it  seems;  go  forward  then,  and 
tiownface  him  that  you  never  told  him  a  word  on  the  subject, 
and  1  will  be  your  security  for  twenty  guineas." 

"  I  can't  ;  —  I  told  Lieutenant  Darcy  also,  and  several  others." 

44  Ah  !  that's  bad  —  that's  very  bad.  ]\Iy  dear  Brydone,  that's 
unfortunate  for  all  of  us." 

44 1  don't  se€  how  it's  unfortunate  for  more  than  him,"  said 
Brydone,  with  recovered  coolness. 

"  Why  yes,  it's  a  loss  to  you  ;  a  loss  of  money,  and,  perhaps, 
something  as  valuable.  But  there's  yet  a  way  by  which  you 
may  mend  it,  and  prevent  the  loss.  You  shall  have  the  twenty 
guineas,  if  you'll  just  take  the  back  track  down  the  country, 
and  be  gone  for  five  days.  I  don't  care  where  you  go,  or  what 
you  do  in  the  meantime,  so  that  you  don't  come  within  twenty 
miles  of  the  barony." 

"  I  can't  think  of  it,"  said  the  other  obstinately. 

Watson  Gray  regarded  him  earnestly,  for  a  fe\v  moments,  be 
fore  he  continued. 

••  H.iw  a  fellow  of  good  sense  will  sometimes  trifle  with  his 
good  fortune,  and  risk  everything  on  a  blind  change  J<-e  Bry 
done,  what's  got  into  you,  that  you  can  f  •  road  that's 
safest  and  must  profitable?" 

"  IVrhaps  I  do,"  replied  the  other  with  a  grin  of  ib&  c.  olest 
self-complaisance. 

He  was  answered  by  a  smile  of  Gray,  one   of  that  sinister 


A    WITNESS   SILKN*rr.I>.  127 

kind  :  observing  man  would   shudder  to  behold   in   the 

f  a  dark  and  determined  one. 

••  i  i:ie  counsel —  the 

You're  in  the  '.vay  of  dan- 

'11  he  liot  fighting  there 

•n't  stand   by   and   see  liim 

ly   >c.imp  like   Stockton.       You  can 

-haiv  of  money  besides,  by 

taki:  .ind  riding  down  the  road." 

1  —  but   win-re    then   would   be  my 
:  .irony  ?" 
••  Th<  :'  a  foid,  perhaps  who>e  lingers  are  made  use  of 

•  in  the  I'm-." 

:'-M»l  than   yourself,  Watson  Gray  ;    and  let  me  tell 
if  as  well  as  the  captain.     There's  more 
ne  in  preparation." 

"Ah.  ;died   Gray,  coolly,  as   the    other 

jerkeil  uj>  the  hiidle  of  liis  horse  and  prepared  to  ride  forward 

::«1  I  warn  you  that  you  had  better  tak-  i  dn>rn 

the  c-ounny.  rather  than  me.      Your  chance  isn't  so  much  better 

than    that  of  Ned  Morton,  that  you    can   stand  by  and  see   him 

uthout    ninninir  a  narrow  clianc •••  -;n«^  your  neck 

•ake  my  wonl,  for  what   I'm  telling  you  — 

;ne  what  y.m  call  jrood  advice;    I'll  give  you  some 

i.i   return.      DM    ju>t  what    yon  wanted    me    to   do.     Turn    your 

'own  the  country,  and  don't  trust  yourself 

\.      By  hard  pushing,  you'll  p't 

!;i it iu's  in  •.  while    I'll  ride  for'a'd  and  take 

• 

ite,  Joe  — very.     But  I  don't  despair 
i    of  the  twenty    guineas.      Gold 
a  metal,  that  a  handful  of  it  persuades  where  all 
.rgument  will  fail;   and  I    think,  that    by   givi: 

Hi  will  stop   fa] 

"ii  with    this   cruel    btuineSS,      Y<-u    certainly  can't   find 

hung  ;   and  when  it's  to 

tiiat   they  should  <  •  must  be  the  worst 

i  ward." 


428  THI-:  sroiT. 

"You  may  put  it  up.  I  won't  look.  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Watscn  Gray  —  I  know  very  well  what's  locked  up  iu  Middle- 
ton  barony.  I  should  be  a  pretty  fool  to  take  twenty  guineas, 
when  I  can  get  two  hundred." 

Meantime,  under  the  pretence  of  taking  the  money  from  las 
bosom,  Gray  had  taken  a  pistol  from  his  belt.     This  he  held  in 
readiness,  and  within  a  couple  of  feet  from  the  head  of  Bry<; 
The  latter  had   pushed   his  horse  a  little  in  the  advance,  while 
Gray   had    naturally    kept   his    steed   in   while    extricating 
pistol. 

"Be  persuad^l,  Brydone,"  continued  Gray,  with  all  tl. 
tleness  of  one  who  was  simply  bent  to  conciliate;  "only 
your  eyes  round  upon  this   metal,  and   you  will   he  convinced. 
It  is  a  sight  which  usually  proves  very  convincing." 

But  the  fellow  doggedly  refused  to  turn  his  head,  which  he 
continued  to  shake  negatively. 

"No,  no!"    he   answered;    "it   can't   convince,   me,  AY 
Gray.     You   needn't   to   pull   out   your  purse    and   waste    your 
words.     Put  up  your  money.     I  should  be  a  blasted  fool  to  give 
up  my  chance  at  Middleton   barony,  and  Ned   Morton's  share, 
for  so  poor  a  sum  as  twenty  guineas." 

"Fool!"  exclaimed  Gray,  "then  die  in  your  folly!  Take 
lead,  since  gold  won't  suit  you :"  and,  with  the  words,  he  pulled 
trigger,  and  drove  a  brace  of  bullets  through  the  skull  of  his 
wilful  companion.  Brydone  tumbled  from  his  horse  without  a 
groan. 

"I  would  have  saved  the  ass  if  he  would  have  let  ma"  eaia 
Gray,  dismounting  leisurely;    and,  fastening  his  own   and   th  » 
horse  of  the  murdered  man  in  the  thicket,  he   pn>c<  rde-1    [.,   lift 
the  carcass  upon  his  shoulder.     He  carried  it  into  the  dee] 
part  of  the  woods,  a  hundred  yards  or  more  from  the  roadside 
and,  having  first  emptied   the  pockets,  cast  it  d 
channel  of  a  little  creek,  the  watery  ooze  of  which  did  rot 
fice  to  cover  it.     The  face  was  downward,  but  the  ha. 
head,  mangled  and  shattered   by  the    bullets,  remained    npwaid 
and  visible  through  the  water.      Fnun  the  garments  of  Brydone 
he  gleaned  an  amount  in  gold  almost  as  jjreat  as  that  which  he 
had  tendered  him;    and,  with   characteristic    philosophy,  he  thus 


*  !-jr< 

solil.i.jui.  lie  conn-  .inferred   it   to  hia 

»f  forty  guineas  to  the   fnoRsh   fellow.     This  is 
all  the  work  of  avarice.     Now,  if  his  heart  hadn't  heen  set  upon 
ting  the    harony.  he'd    have  1660  the  reason  of  everul  ' 

'in.      HeM    hare  seen  that  it  was  a  short  matt, 
and    death    between   VLB.      Him   or  me!      Me   or  him  !      Turn    it 
u  will,  like  '  00,'*  it's  still  the  same.      I  don't  likr 
:llet>  when    ether  arguments  will  do:    hut  'twas  m< 

:lic  matter  —  as   there    is   pretty 

much    in    all    matter-.      He    mis/i'f    to    listen   to   arguments   this 
'••    '•    1  ;.im.      He  \\a>  a  p. .id   runner  —  and 

that's  as  much  as  could    ho  said  of  him  —  hut    a  most    conceited 
.  .  .  Well,  our  reckoning's  over.      lle'>  p.t  his  pay  and  dis- 
Btockton'a  u  fearful  I'd  have 

to  shoot  him,  when  I  set  out.     The  fuolish  fellow!      lie  wouldn't 
••ved  it  if  I  had  told  him.      AVith  such  a  per.son,  feeding 
i>    the    only  sort  of  helieving  :   a  Imllet's  the  only  thing   to   COD 
viuce  a  hard  head.     lie's  got  it,  and  no  more  can  bo  said." 


CHAPTER    XXXIX.    \ 

I.    TM     AN     KVIL     DKF.D. 


THK    ]>rohahle    and    ultimate    task    which    W    •          (Jray   h.nd 
to    himself   for   performance,   mi    quitting    the    harony 

hut  the    murderer,  hv   that 

P'lii  Mtion,  did    not    entirely   conclude    the    Idoody 

li  he  had  thus  unsrru]'uli»usly  he-:ni.      I! 

'.'  is  that  they  make  a  clean 

;.  of  the  joh.and  leave  hehiml  them  no  telltale  and  unn. 
' 

I    on    ritli.-r    M.|I',    «Ug- 

'"•"  <>f  ''"'  [: 

•' 

A        :;  Tin-tit    lor   ii-  ,,.    fnutid    in    the 

.   liilu-ii  •li.in-  ulii.-h  it  li.ul  in  tin-  Ki'vui!.:.  _glc. 


4oO  THE   SCOUT. 

chip*  which  they  might  readily  put  out  of  >ight.  Ho  had 
no  scruples  in  pm-ketiug  the  money  whicli  he.  had  taken  froin 
the  garments  of  lirydone;  hut  he  knew  that  the  horse  «>f 
murdered  man  could  he  identified  ;  and  accordingly, though  with 
much  more  reluctance  than  he  had  manifested  in  the  case  of  his 
master,  he  decreed  to  the  animal  the  same  fate.  lie.  brought 
him  to  the,  spot  where  he  had  thrown  the  hody,  and  despatched 
him  in  like  manner,  hy  putting  a  hrace  of  hullets  through  his 
head.  Then,  with  all  the  coolness  of  the  veteran  rufiian,  he 
reloaded  his  weapons  where  he  >t«md,  and,  having  don-- 
returned  quietly  to  the  spot  where,  his  own  steed  had  heeu 
fastened. 

I'.ut  the  "  fat  1-"  aht.ut  whicli  Watson  Gray  had  soliloquized, 
alter  the  usual  fashion  of  the  ruilian,  was  disposed  to  he.  partic 
ularly  husy  that  day  and  in  that  neighborhood.  The  gratuitous 
killing  of  the  horse,  though  designed  to  increase  the  securities 
of  the  murderer,  helped  really  to  diminish  them.  The  report 
of  his  last  pit-till  had  awakened  other  echoes  than  such  as  were 
altogether  desirable  ;  and  he,  who  had  so  lately  sent  his  fellow- 
ereature  to  his  sudden  and  fe:;ifv,l  account,  was  soon  aroused  to 
the  necessity  of  M-eking  measures  for  his  own  life  and  s,. 

lie  had  left  the  plain  which  he  had  made  memorahle  hy  his 
evil  deed,  not  more  than  half  a  mile  hehind  him,  when  lie  WM 
staitled  hy  the.  mellow  note  of  a  bugle  in  his  rear.  A  faint 
answer  was  returned  from  ahove,  and  he  now  began  to  fear  that 
his  path  was  heset  hy  cavalry.  Could  it  he  that  Stockton  had 
got  some  intimation  of  his  departure  from  the  harony,  and, 
sii-pecting  his  ohject.  had  set  off  in  pursuit?  This  was  the 
more  obvious  interpretation  of  the  sounds  which  alarmed  him. 
This  was  the  most  natural  suspicion  of  his  mind. 

He.   stopped   his    horse    for  a  few  seconds   on   the   edge  of  the 
.and  partly  in  the  COV6T  of  the  WOOd,  undetermined  whether 
to  dismount    and   take,  the    hushes,  or  holdly  dash    forward   and 
trust   to    the    fleetness   of   his    .^teed.      Hut   for  the   ditlicnlty   «>f 
Sliding  the  animal,  the    former  would    have  he.en  t! 
He  cho.se  a  mid. lie  course  and  n»de  "ff  to  the  left,  into  the  f- 
at  as  easv  a  pace.  a>  was  possible.      V>\\i  lie  had  m-.  him- 

dred    yards   before    he    espied    the    imperfect    outlines    of  three 


431 

ning.     '! 

!y,    perceive    him 
turned  ;i! 

If  in 

e  :    but,  in 
men. 

afforded    liim  of   these  men 
were  iu,i.  'it  il'nl  n<<* 

. 

'I'ho    pale-yellow    cre>eent    which    gleamed    upon 
their  iVlt  «.r  i'ur,  and  their  blue  uniforms,  apprized    him 

ami 

.vild  shout  which  t  tg  him,  too  plainly  told 

the  >  b  which  ti  'heir 

Iiis    teeth    in    tin;    bitterness  of   his  disapp 
A  h-d    iii   Lud   soliloquy,  a>    he  drove  the.  sjMir> 
.n<l  sent  him  hea-llon^r  throu-h  the  v, 

"Hell's*  ,-iu-h  luck.     Here* when  all  -h.»uM 

the  track.      It  will  he  too  late  to  p-t  hack 
plain  !" 

me,  the  apprehennonj  of  \;.  seemed  en- 

..•n  t.)  his  superior.      The  idea  of  his   own  escape    ! 
douUful,  did  his  mind.     UP  looked  up  to 

-mi,  which  \\;t  cding  rapidly  onward  to  his  meridi- 

•,d  muttered, 

••»il  miles  yet,  and    how  many    twists   and    turns  he- 
,  the  d — 1    only  kn«v.>  !      Would    to   I.  ';ton 

ito  the  \v»ods  no\v.      There  Could  he  no  i. 

08,  than    :  and 

h   other's  hrains.      Where   the 

m  ',     H-  :on,  thatv  clear  :    hut 

\\hat  hrou^ht  him  h«d-  '  .ner 

in  all  last  week,  to  tell  us  ai;yth:;!ur  —  no  wonder  that  we  knock 
our  skulls  against  the  pinr  l: 

Sue!,  innrmu!!.  e  galloped  forward,     Tl. 

ii    with  ^rreat    spirit,    1':  I    tho 

naiii'  '   \\  hich  ( I  ra  v  had  not  ' 

ed,  and  which  now  began  to   awake:  :;sions   for   h;b 


\-\'2  THE   SCOUT. 

own  safety.  He  was  evidently  environed  by  his  foes.  There 
had  been  an  effort  made  to  surround  him.  This,  he  quickly 
conjectured  to  have  been  in  consequence  of  the  alarm  which  he 
himself  had  Driven,  by  the  use  of  firearms,  in  his  late  performances. 

"  So  much  for  firing  that  la<t  pistol.  It  was  not  needful. 
What  did  I  care  if  they  did  find  the  horse  afterward.  Nobody 
could  trouble  me  with  the  matter.  But  it's  too  late  for  wisdom 
1  must  do  the  bo>t.  1  don't  think  they've  closed  me  in  quite." 

Hut  they  had.  The  very  first  pistol-shot  had  been  reported 
to  Conway  by  one  of  bis  scouts,  and  t*Iic  troop  had  been  scat 
tered  instantly,  with  orders  to  take  a  wide  circuit,  and  contract 
to  a 'common  centre,  around  the  spot  whence  the  alarm  had  aris 
en.  The  second  shot  quickened  their  movements,  and  their  ob 
ject  was  facilitated  by  the  delay  to  which  Gray  was  subjected 
in  the  removal  of  the  body  of  Brydone,  and  in  the  search  which 
he  afterward  made  of  the  pockets  of  his  victim.  lie  soon  saw 
the  fruits  of  his  error — of  that  which  is  scarcely  an  error  in  a 
sagacious  scout  —  that  Indian  caution  which  secures  and  smooths 
everything  behind  him,  even  to  the  obliteration  of  his  own  foot 
steps. 

He  had  ridden  but  a  few  hundred  yards  farther,  when  he  dis 
covered  that  the  foe  was  still  in  front  of  him.  Two  of  the  "  Con- 
garec  Blues,"  well  mounted  and  armed,  were  planted  directly  in 
his  track,  and  within  twenty  paces  of  each  other.  Both  were 
stationary,  and  seemed  quietly  awaiting  his  approach. 

A  desperate  fight,  or  a  passive  sunender  was  only  to  be  avoid 
ed  by  a  ru.sc  dc  guerre.  The  chances  of  the  two  former  seem 
ed  equally  dubious.  Watson  Gray  was  a  man  of  brawn,  of  great 
activity  and  muscle.  He  would  not  have  thought  it  a  doubtful 
•  •banco,  by  any  means,  to  have  grappled  with  either  of  the  foes 
before  him.  lie  would  have  laughed,  perhaps,  at  the  absurdii.y 
of  any  apprehensions  which  might  be  entertained  in  his  behalf, 
in  such  a  conflict.  But  with  the  two,  the  case  was  somewhat 
different.  The  one  v.-.Mild  be  able  to  delay  him  sufficiently  hmjs 
to  permit  the  other  to  shoot,  or  cut  him  down,  at  leisure,  and 
without  haxard.  Surrender  was  an  expedient  scarcely  move 
promising.  The  Black  Riders  had  long  since  been  out  of  the 
pale  :»f  mercy  along  the  (Jongaroe  ;  and  the  appeal  for  quarter. 


A    SI  .vN     ,-.\  IL    I'! 

on  tii  'heir  uniform,  would   h. 

.1  shrift  and  sure  cord. 
Hut  t]  hich   he  might    pr;.  i    t-«  which 

:  s.      He  les>e:;ed  the   rapid! 

his  motion,  af1  \inghimself  1  ;  B  leh-nd  him,  that 

he  n  ieraldy    in    advance  of  the.    rear    pur."    '.      H 

.•iently    nigh    to    those    in    front    to    hear    t'  .  ' 
They  charged  him  to  surremler  as  he  approached;  nru\  witli  a 
motion  studiously  intended  for  them  to  see,  he  retained    th< 
tol  ;  it,  which    hefore   he   had    kept    ready  in   his   hand. 

This  was  a  p  Q,  and  his  reply  to  the   challenge  continu 

ed   it>  apj 

'd   terms  —  good  quarter  —  and   I'll   surrender,"  was   his 
<ply. 

!  —  you  shall  have  terms  enough,"  was  the  answer  ; 
.ind  the  young  dragoon    laughed  aloud   at  the    semiing   RDli 
with  which  the   fugitive    appeared    to    insist    upon    the    ten. 

.      (I ray  muttvivi  between  his   teeth 

"  lie  means  gooil  mpe  ;   hut  he  shall  laugh  t'oth-  f  his 

mouth,  the  raseal  !" 

Maintaining  an  api  -ilic,  and. 

.:!    -lance   hehiiid   him,        ii  1    l.y    tn 

tool;  (special    care  to  carry    his    horse,    to  the    right   ha:. 

trooper,  who   \\  a>   placed  on    the   right  of  his  coin: 
6    twenty    paces   from   him.      \\\ 
movement  he  contrived  to  throw  out  one  of  ; 
.  r,  the  otU-r  In-ill.;-  1  ef.veen  \Vatson  (iray 
Caching  this  one  he    began  drawing  up  his  steed,  hut  W 
-t  nj),  and  whi-n  the  dragoon  1, Hiked  momentarily  to  see  him 
dismount,  he  dashed  th-  :dy  into  the   anim..' 

him  free  rein,  and    adding   to   his   impetus   hy    tin 
halloo  of  which   his   hi:  capable,  he   si  nt   the 

StCCu,  with    irresistihle    imj.ulse,  full  I 
and  horseman.      The  sword  of  the  tr 

only  while  himself  and  hi-r.-e  were   tumlding  to  the  ground.      A 
.  and  W.v  nrnt 

\\ith  a  houn-i  I  it'  the    interruption  \\:\>. 

*t>  a  ruhh  oilers  to  tin    ; 


-"JP     <(   M'TX 

w  prosper!  of  strife   opened    hef..^   his    path   alm-s: 
the  .t  rfter.     One  and  another  of  G  troop  appeal 

ed  .  ,  v.  ry  interval  in  tlie    forest.      The    pursuing  partv 

wer"   passing  forward  with  wihl  shouts  of  rage  and  encou: 
me;  !  fa  i..  behind,  and  a  darker  feeling,  and  far  more    solemn 
com'<ti  r.  of  evil,  now  filled  the  mind  of  the  outlaw. 

y  a  life,  after  all.     It's  what  we  all  have  : 
one  clay  or  another.     I   don't  think   I  shortened  Joe  Bryd< 
very  much,  and  if  the  time's  come  to  shorten  mine.  1    reck 
wouldn't  be  very  far  off  any  how.     As  for  the  captain,  lie  don't 
know,  and  he'll  he  hhnmng  me,  hut    I've  d  -ne  lln-   hest  for  him. 
It'.s  only  on  h'  a  in  this  hohhle.      {  c.>uhl  easily  have 

managed  Stockton  on  \n\  own.     Well,  neither  of'  us  knows  \\ 
o  he  first  ;  but  the  game  looks  as  if  'twas  nearly  up  for  me.     It 
.von't  lie  the  rope  though,  I  reck  >n,      No!   no!    I'm   prettv 
>n  that  score." 

The  dark  impressions  of  his  mind  found  their  utterance,  in 
•his  form,  in  the  few  brief  moment*  that  elapsed  after  the  dis- 
jovery  of  his  new  eiu>mie<  They  did  not  seem  disposed  to 
await  his  coming  forward,  as  had  been  the  ease  with  the  dra- 
[]  whom  he  had  foih-d  .-uid  overthrow  u.  They  were  advan 
cing  briskly  upon  him  from  every  side,  lie  w->uhl  willingly  have 
awaited  them  without  an}'  movement,  hut  for  the  rapidly  sound 
ing  hoofs  in  the  rear.  These  drove  him  forward  ;  and  he  de 
rived  a  new  stimulus  of  daring,  as  he  di>r<i\vred  among  the  ad 
vancing  horsemen  the  person  of  Clarence  Conway  himself. 

Watson  (Jray  had    imbibed    from    his   leader   some   portion  oi 
the  hate  which  the  latter  entertained,  to  a  degree,  so  mortaj,  f'-r 
his  more,  honorable,  and    fortunate   brother.      X<>t  that   he  w:;-  a 
man  to  entertain  much  malice.     But  he  had  learned   to  svmpa- 
thi/e  so  much  with  his  confederate    in  crime,  that   he   gradually 
shared  his  hates  and  prejudices, even  though  he  lacked  the  [ 
fiery  passions  which  would    have    provoked    their 
himself.      The  sight  of  Clarence  ('onuay  aroused  in    him    some 
thing  more  than  the  mere  desire  of  escape.      Of  escape,  in- 
lie  did  not  now  think    .so   much.      But    the  desire    : 
with  him    into  the  embrace  of  death  an  object  of  so  much   H 
Rty  and  hale,  and  fivjuci.t    vexation,  ua-.   its,. If  ;,   delight  ; 


ed  himself.      ! 

:    i Icatii    kl 
:    ni.-ts  \vl. 
l.nth    pistols   iron. 

i-k.  and    «:ave    him 

(pur. 

•md   him. 

— "  tlu-  man  is  despei 
11.    hiMself  di<l  not   seem  to   value   tlio  caution   which    he  ei 

He    dashed    forward    to   encounter   the 
an,  his  hroad.sword  waving  a!  OV6  his  head,  and  I'ori: 
•  inlilem  of  his  follov,  art,      \Vh'': 

vps  ;    lnit  the  splendid 
,,  hich  t'onwa\  .  allowed  them  no  chance  of  in- 

.•aimr.  and    reckless   advain 
•  •d    his  lifr.      It  drew    the    p 

,:iin.      '1'he  hnllet 

.ulette    upon    (  .-li-.rdder,  a; 

the  tle>h,  hut  -  to    inllict  a  wound.       i  u-e 

henchiiian  of  Con.  •  np,  and 

^hi\'  hand  wlii.  d    it  l.y    a    >lmt.    .-.liimM    >ent  at 

iid  small  pistol  which  i  .      In  an- 

othe.  .  ".JMIII 

the  ''ting   thi'Mi-h  the    frail  •>-  of 

.in;:  the  ]i. 

'«-d    wildly    for  an    inMant  —  the    lip-  and 

:Iy  muriniire.l.  an.!    then  the    in.-ensihln    frame    fell    lie. 

ed    in    the    silent    eml>:  ith. 

ily   .-hoit 
and  that  which  th-  BT  ha  i    inllicti-l    up. MI    I'.ry •'. 

-  upon  that  person,  may  justify  us  ir. 
which  fell  from  the  lip>  of  < 

he,  "  a  had    fello\v,  In:1 

like    him    on 


436  THE   SCOUT. 

gaiee.      l>ut  he  was  a  wretch  —  a  bad,  jloodv  wretch; heV 

gone  to  a  i:  .»adful  and  terrible  account.     Cover  him  up,  men,  as 
soo!.  have   searclied   him.      Lieutenant    M«.nk,  attend   to 

thi.s  man's  burial,  and  join   me,  la-low.     We   must    see  what  he 
luio  ueen  about  there.     You  say  two  pistol  shots  were  heard?" 

"  Two,  sir,  about  ten  minutes  apart.'' 

"  Such  a  man  as  Watson  Gray,  never  uses  firearms  without 
1  cause  —  we  must  search  and  see." 

Dividing  his  little  force,  Comvay  gave  the  order  to  "  trot,'1 
and  the  troop  was  soon  under  quick  motion,  going  over  the 
ground  which  they  so  recently  traversed.  The  search  was  k 
and,  as  we  may  suppose,  successful.  The  body  of  Brydone  and 
that  of  his  horse  were  found,  but,  as  he  was  unknown,  it  excited 
little  interest.  That  he  was  a  Black  Rider,  and  an  enemy,  was 
obvious  from  his  dress  ;  and  the  only  subject  of  marvel  was,  why 
Watson  Gray  should  murder  one  of  his  own  fraternity.  It  was 
midday  before  Clarence  Conway  took  up  the  line  of  march  f<-r 
MiddletOl]  barony,  and  this  mental  inquiry  was  one  for  which  he 
could  find  no  plausible  solution  until  some  time  after  he  had  r.r- 
rived  there.  Let  us  not  anticipate  his  arrival. 


CHAPTER   XL. 

BUCKLING    ON    ARMOR. 

IT  may  readily  be  supposed  that  the  disappearance  of  Watson 
Gray  caused  some  uneasiness  in  the  mind  of  his  principal;  but 
when,  hour  after  hour  elapsed,  yet  brought  neither  sign  nor  word 
which  could  account  for  his  absence,  or  remedy  its  evil  CO! 

res,  the  uneasiness  of  the  outlaw  naturally  and  propor- 
ally  increased.  The  fearful  hour  was  speeding  onward  to 
its  c  isis,  as  it  seemed,  with  more  than  the  wonted  rapidity  of 
lime.  The  aspect  of  events  looked  black  and  threateninir. 
Wounded  and  feeble,,  wanting  in  that  agent  who,  in  his  own 
prostration,  was  the  eye,  and  the  wing,  and  the  arm,  of  his  re 
solves,  Edward  Morton  could  not  shake  off  the  gathering  clouds 


BUCKLING    ON    UUfOR.  487 

'  'ii    which    IP  <;].       II,-    had 

risen  at  the  first  Muslim.:  of  tin1  day,  and,  with  tlio  assistant 

:vant.  contrived   to  put  on  his  garments.     The   sword  which 

he   •  ••!%•  able   to  wield —  cortainly,  witli   no  efficiency  — 

hucklrd  to  his  side;  —  hut  his  chief  reliance,  in  the  event  of 

•i   !••  '  jle,  lay  in  his   pistols,  of  which    an   extra   pair   hail 

t*>n  (Iray,  the  moment  he,  discovered  the 

81  of  his  superior. 

A«  tl  and  Gray  did  not  appear,  the,  outlaw 

:;-y  to  make   those   preparations,  the  chief  dntv  of 
which  now  promised   to  devolve  upon  him;    and  with  some  diffi 
culty,  iin-r  to  the  lower  story  of  the  hoii>e.  he  proceeded 
to  drill   his  men   in  anticipation   of  the  worst,      lie   had   alreadv 
•ved  not   to  go  further,  unless  Gray  made  his  appeaiance  in 
n  and  counselled  the  measure.      lie  had,  from  the  first,  heen 
opposed  to  the  trial;    though  he  could  not  hut  acknowledge  that 
the  arrangement    had    heen    most    favuraMe,  at    the    time,  which 
his   confederate  could   hope   to  make.      He  was  now  more   thor- 
:ned    than   ever   in    his   determination    to    keep   his 
:vert   the   mansion    house  into  a    stronghold, 
which  he  would  surrender  only  with  his  life. 

The   surgeon,  IIillh"iise,  was  present,  with   a  double  share  of 
lution,  to  second   his  resolve.     The  picture  which  Watson 

had  judiciously  presented  to  his  mind,  the  night  ! 
tlu'  :  i'is  various  wardrobe,  by  the  sable  mutineers,  had 

ihjeet   of  sleepless  meditation   to  him  the  whole  night, 
and  had  imbued  him  with  a  hitter  disposition,  to  kill  and  de>? 

g«  levellers  of  taste  and  fortune   as  should  cross  his 

path  or  come  within  shooting  distance  from   the  windows.      Hi, 

.ted  witli  more  than  usual  care   and  fastidious- 

that   morning.      He  wore   a  rich  crimson   trunk,  that  shone 

:i  in  the  darkened  apartments.     Thi- 

•J'test   lilac;    and  the   golden    1  uckles 

which   glittered  upon  his   shoes,  1  to  bring   "a  strange 

l)1''r;  -hady  place."      Hi<    COmt,  worn   for   the   first 

tllll(  ilied  the  barony,  was   of  the  rich    uniform 

°f  t!  >rds       Altogether,  IHlhotise    in    his 

••'inipiiu'ii:          ,         a   most    imposing   figure.     His  per 


438  THE   SCOUT. 

son  was  not  bad,  though  Ins  face  was  monstrous  ugly  ;  and 
he  possessed  a  leg  which  was  symmetry  itself.  He  measured 
at  annual  periods,  the  knee,  the  calf,  and  the  ankle,  ami  by  a 
comparison  with  every  other  handsome  leg1  in  the  army,  lie  had 
heen  able  to  satisfy  himself  that  his  was  the  perfect  standard. 
It  did  not  lessen  the  military  effect  of  his  appearance,  though 
somewhat  incongruous  with  his  display  in  other  respects,  that 
he,  wore  a  common  belt  of  sable  strapped  about  his  waist,  in 
which  were  stuck  half  a  dozen  pistols  of  all  sixes.  lie  had  a 
taste  in  this  weapon,  and  had  accumulated  a  moderate  assort- 
IIM  nt,  most  of  which  were  richly  wrought  and  inlaid  with  bits 
of  c!..'  -cd  plate,  of  gold  and  silver;  carvings  and  decorations 
which  took  the  shapes  of  bird,  beast,  and  flower,  according  to 
the  caprice  or  fancy  of  their  owner;  or,  it  may  be,  the  artist 
himself.  The  more  serious  and  stern  outlaw  met  this  display 
with  a  look  of  scorn  which  he  did  not  seek  to  suppress,  but 
which  the  fortunate  self-complaisance  of  the  other  did  not  suffer 
him  to  see. 

"  You  don't  seem,  Mr.  Hillhouse,"  he  observed,  as  they  met. 
•to  anticipate  much  trouble  or  danger  in  this  morning's  work." 

"Ah  sir!  and  why  do  you  think  so  ?"  demanded  the  othei 
with  some  curiosity. 

"  Your  garments  seem  better  adapted  for  the  ball-room  and 
the  dance,  than  for  a  field  of  blood  and  battle.  You  may  be 
shot,  and  scalped,  or  hung,  sir,  in  the  course  of  the  morning." 

"  True,  sir,  and  for  that  reason,  I  have  dressed  myself  in  this 
fashion.  The  idea  of  this  extreme  danger,  alone,  sir,  prompted 
me  to  this  display.  For  this  reason  I  made  my  toilet  with  ex 
treme  care.  I  consumed,  in  my  ablutions,  an  entire  section  of 
rny  famous  Chinese  soap.  You  perceive,  sir,  in  the  language 
of  the  divine  Shakspere" — stroking  his  chin  complacently  a> 
he  spoke  —  "'I  have  reaped  the  stubble  field  also  —  my  chin 
was  never  smoother;  and,  in  the  conviction,  sir,  that  I  might 
be  called  upon  this  day,  to  make  my  last  public  appearance,  1 
have  been  at  special  pains  to  prepare  my  person  to  the  best  ad 
vantage,  for  the  inspection  of  the  fortunate  persons  who  will 
make  the  final  disposition  of  it.  To  die  with  dignity,  and  to 
appear  after  deatl  with  grace,  has  been  the  reflection  which  h;u 


.  MX','     ON"     ARMOR. 
mind  thi-  ;,.(.      Mv  ,m>(|. 

»f;it  'y  of  a  melancholy  complexion.     If: 

inherit  my  wardrobe,  let  me  make  as  mucli  u*« 
<>f  it  ai  I  c-an.  I  may  probably  secure  this  suit  to  myself  by 
dying  in  it  like  a  man." 

.lively  heard  the>e   forcible  —  certainly 

he  did  not   listen   t»  them.      II,-  irai  aliea.ly  l.usy  in  d 
t  >  the  be>t  advantage,  of  his  half  score  of  muskets.      The  1 
-lie  of  comparatively  great  strength.     It  was  of  Ml 

:nl  had  been  more  tlian  once  defended  against   the 
.Its  <»f  the   f  With   an   adequate   force  it   might 

BO   held   against   any  a-sailants,  unless  they  biv.ught  ar 
tillery.      But  the  little  squad  of  Edward  Morton  W( 
inadequate  U)  its  defence,  even  a-ainst  the  small  force  < 

It  required  all  of  his  skill,  courage,  and  ingenuity,  to  : 
'.eral.ly  secure.      He  u,,w  m..re  than  ever  felt  the  ai 
^  atson  (jray.     The   readiness  of  resource  which   that  wily  ruf- 
fi;ul  ••  ^ould,  no  douht,  have  been   productive  of  | 

iinlll)1't;l1''  "'•       Kven    if    the    ga:  uld    hold    out 

.It,  they  could  not  hope  to  do   so  against   famine. 
provisions  of  the   plantation  were  already  at   the  ; 
i'iack  Riders. 


The  outlaw  surveyed  his   prospers  with   sufficient  : 
They  were  deplorable  and  discouraging  enough.      But    he  :. 
th.Might  of  faltering.      His   soul   felt   nothing   but  deli;; 
Hi-  nroidl   breathe<l   nothing   but  confidence  .v 

D    laughed  with    scorn  —  when    Hi!!!. 
somrthing  of  a  caj)itulatii.n  and  terms. 

••Terms  sir!    ay,  we'll  givi-   and  take   terms  —  such   ten 

'  the  point  of  these  bayonets,  and   can   be   in,  from 

the  mu/./.le   of  ,rlir.    ,.,,,,1    pist.,1       TVOU,  ind,-c«l  !      Wh;, 
talk  of  terms,  sir.  u  hen  we    can    beat    and    slay  th- 
of  them  in  twenty  minute^  '      L,.t    them  appp 
mark  at  all,  and  wh.yL   chance   can    they  have,  with  the: 
only,  again>t  theM  DUldu  tl  '      I;      lh  M      H  .: 
tleman  of  high  rank  in  his   majeMy's  army,   I    . 

hould  hold  such    !  !: 

you  are  at  libeiiy  to  leave  the  h.Mi.s,-  tl,i>  •. 


440  THE   SCOUT. 

to  /i  place  of  safety,  if  you  can  find  it ;  or  make  your  own  terms 
tvith  our  enemies,  as  you  or  they  please.  Try  it,  and  you'll  find 
that  your  fine  clothes  will  be  one  of  the  best  arguments  for 
hanging  you  to  the  first  tree;  —  the  JMack  Riders  have  long 
since  learned  that  the  finest  bird  is  to  be  first  plucked.  We 
shall  remain  where  we  are,  and  probably  inherit  your  wardrobe" 
after  all." 

The  surgeon  was  abashed  and  confounded  for  the  moment 
lie  had  not  often  been  compelled  to  listen  to  such  language; 
ii' n-  did  the  outlaw  intend  it  so  much  for  the  ears  of  the  person 
whom  he  addressed  as  for  those  who  listened  around  him.  He 
knew  the  value  of  big  words  and  bluster,  in  a  time  of  doubt  and 
danger,  to  the  uninformed  and  vulgar  mind.  He  felt  that 
:ng  could  be  hoped  for,  at  the  hands  of  his  small  party,  if 
;  HJ  "f  them  were  suffered  to  flinch  or  falter.  1L  knew  the 
importance  of  all  that  he  himself  said  ;  but  the  surgeon  did  not 
once  suspect  it.  He  recovered  from  his  astonishment,  and,  after 
a  brief  delay,  his  wounded  pride  found  utterance. 

•ally,  sir  —  Mr.  Conway  —  your  language  is  exceedingly 
objectionable.  I  shall  be  constrained  to  notice  it,  sir ;  and  to 
look  for  redress  at  your  hands  at  the  earliest  opportunity." 

"Any  time,  sir — now  —  when  you  please  —  only  don't  afllict 
i::i-  with  your  apprehensions.      If  you  can  not  see,  what  is  clear 
-.gli  to  the  blindest  mole  that  ever  ploughed  up  a  plain  field, 
that  these  scoundrels  stand  no  sort  of  chance  against  us,  in  open 
.:ilt  —  no  words  of  mine,  or  of  any  man,  can  make  you  wiser, 
hike   Rnuely,  you  would  surrender,  I  suppose,  at  the  enforce 
ment  of  a  pine  log." 

A  hearty  laugh  of  the  soldiers  attested  the  inspiriting  influences 
which  they  had  imbibed  from  the  confident  bearing  and  words 
i  nton,  and  their  familiarity  with  an  anecdote  which,  but  a 
little  time  before,  had  provoked  much  mirth  in  both  parties  at 
the  expense  of  a  provincial  officer,  in  the  British  army,  served 
to  increase  their  confidence.*  It  may  be  supposed  that  this 

*   Joloric!    Hugely  had  command  of  a  British  stockade  near   CumdcM,  whit  h 

waa  garrisoned    l>y  ar»  hundred    inuu.      It  was   summoned    hy  Colonri  William 

i.'igton.      '    Washington  was  without  artillrry  ;   hul  a  pine  log,  which  w/u 

iously  hewn  and  arranged  HO  an  to  >*emule  a  field-piece,  enforced,  to  the 


BDCKLINU    <>N    A!,  441 

Imrst  of  merriment  did  not  diminish  tlio  anger  of  Ilillhouve  ;   but 
he  contented  liimsclf  with  saying  that  lie  shotihl  "  bide  his  time." 
••  V    u  arc  right,  sir,  in    this  said   Morton,  "we  have 

neither  of  us  any  time  i<>r  private  squabbles.     Do  jour  duty  man- 
full\  Mr.  Ilillli'.use.  and  if  we  survive  it,  I  shall  be  ready 

t.>  a]  T  give  you  whatever  satisfaction 

will  please  you  best.     But  now  to  work.     These  shutters  must 

•ed  in  ami  secured." 
The  '  :•?  completely  closed  up  by  this  prnce> 

of  solid  oak,  were  fastened  within,  and,  asce<; 
to   the   u:  .,  Morton  disposed   his  men   in   the   different 

apartments,  with  strict  warning  to  preserve  the 
tVoin   the   windows,  at  every  point   of  approach.     Having  com 
pleted  his  disposition  of  the  defences,  he  requested  an  inter-, 
with  the  ladies  of  the  house,  which  was  readily  granted.     The 
outlaw  and  surgeon  were  accordingly  ushered  into  an  r.ntecham- 
in  which,  amidst  the  stir  and  bustle  of  tl;  iroing  on 

,v,  the   ladies  had   taken   refuge.     The  gentb 

:tli   kindness.     At  such  moments  —  in<  'den 

peiil  and  unexpected  alarm  —  the  human  :t  their  B 

ver  the  forms  of  society  and  the  peculiar  i 

n.  through  the  medium  of  our  fears  ;  and  even  the  i 

which  the  ladies  might  have  had,  touching  the  character  of 

ward  Morton  —  whom  they  knew  only  as  Kdward  Conway  — 

and  the  contempt  which  they  felt  for  the  fopperies  <*f  1 1 5111. 

•'ore  the  pressing  and  mutual  i-.- 
which  prevailed  to  the  probable  danger  "!' the  whole. 

I '.ut,  in  truth,  the  appearance  of  the  outlaw,  at  that  m 
of  his  own  superior   peril,  W9A  well   calculated   to   command 
admiration  even  of  those  wl:o  lo\-ed  him  not.      Man  never  1 
KM  i  '  fcei  iliiily  with  the 

when,  aware  of  all  it>  wnr.-t  ciir.racf-  t  goes  for 

the   encounter,  with  a   stern    deliberate    purp-iM',    which 

rommnndor  of  th»^  post,  thf  pmprii'tv  f>f  nut  •  thr  first  mmm' 

tin-  Ami-ri  -*  hannlcss  pii««-o  of  tir:  •  ;'n»rn 

the  earth,  was  inv<-sto>l  by  tl.i-  :ip;>i<  ii>  :niHa 

ble  power,  that  t  ul  t    tin<l 

<ul»nii»iioti."-   Ifulory  87. 

IM 


442  THE   SCOUT. 

liim  unshrinking  to  the  last,  and  suffers  him,  at  no  moment,  to 
seem  palsied,  weak,  or  indecisive.  Edward  Morton  wore  the  as 
pect  of  tliis  firmness,  in  the  presence  of  the  ladies.  They  knew 
that  he  was  the  destined  victim  whom  the  Black  Riders  professed 
t«:  seek,  and  seek  only  ;  —  they  knew  not  exactly  why  —  but  their 
conjecture,  naturally  enough,  in  the  absence  of  more  certain 
••(•;:s,ins  —  assumed  it  to  be  in  consequence  of  his  Americanism. 

Whatever  might  be  the  cause,  to  be  the  foe  of  the  Black 
Riders  was,  in  all  likelihood,  to  be  the  friend  of  virtue  and  the 
right ;  and  as  he  stood  before  them,  erect  for  the  iirst  time  after 
weeks  of  painful  sickness  and  prostration  —  more  erect  than 
ever  —  with  a  demeanor  that  did  not  presume  in  consequence  <>f 
his  situation  —  nor  challenge,  bv  doubtful  looks  and  tremulous 
tones,  that  sympathy  which  might  well  be  asked  for,  but  never 
by,  "the  brave  man  struggling  with  the  storms  of  fate;"  —  he, 
insensibly  rose  in  the  estimation  of  both,  as  his  person  seemed 
to  rise  nobly  and  commandingly  in  their  sight. 

His  voice  was  gentle  and  mournful  —  in  this,  perhaps,  he  did 
not  forbear  the  exercise  of  some  of  his  habitual  hvpocrisv.  lie 
did  not  forget  for  a  moment  that  the  keen  glances  of  Flora  Mid- 
dleton  were  upon  him  ;  and  like  most  men  of  the  world,  he 
never  forgot  that  policy  which  casts  about  it  those  seeds  which, 
as  they  ripen  into  fruit  —  whatever  the  degree  of  probability  — 
the  same  hand  may  gather  which  has  sown. 

"  Ladies,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  my  presence  has  br.mgln 
danger  to  your  house." 

The  venerable  lady  replied,  promptly:  — 

"  I  trust,  Mr.  Conway,  that,  with  the  assistance  of  your  fol 
lowers,  you  will  be  able  to  keep  the  danger  from  it." 

"  Alas,  madam,  I  must  not  disguise  from  you  the  truth  :  we 

one  to  ten  only  ;  we  may  slay  many  of  the  assailants,  but 

if  they  are  led  by  ordinary  courage,  they  may  eat  through  these 

trails  in  our  spite.     I  have  one  hope  —  that  Watson  Gray,  who 

•  house  last  night,  will  return  in  season,  with   a  sullu-ienf 

>   baffle  them   in  their  attempts.      All    that   can    be   done 

now  will  be  to  keep  ofi'  the  •nmiHMit  of  danger  —  to  parry  for  a 

while,  and    protract    as    long    as    we.    can,  the    storm    which   wil! 

come  at  last." 


i  t:-; 

44  Mr.  Couv,  :ld  not  disparage  your  judgment  or  \ 

:;    l)iit  the   late   (itneial    Middleton,  when    scarcely  at   your 

i*  off  throe  hundred  Gongareei  from  tlio  very  threshold 

.veiling." 

outlaw  modestly  replied,  with  a  how  of  the  he.id  :  — 
••  \\V  will   do  wliat  we  can  do,  Mrs.  Middleton;    but  we  have 
'iad  of  ten  men  in  all,  not  including  Mr.  Ilillhouso  and 
myself.      I    have   no   douht    Mr.  Hilllmuse  will   do   his  duty  as 

es  him " 

••  A-   bftCOmefl  a  gentleman   fighting  in  the  presence  of  the 

fairest  lady " 

Morton  continued  his  speech  in  season  to  interrupt  some  stilt 
isli    common-place  of  the  surgeon,  which    could   only  have  bed) 
-ting  to  the  1:; 

It',  you  know  my  condition.  I  can  die  —  I  need 
lit 't,  I  trust,  say  that,  no  man  could  feel  it  hard  to  do  so,  under 
such  cireum>:  prevail  over  us  at  present  —  but  I  have 

little    strength    to    make    my    death    expensive    to   our   enemies. 
one  tiling,  Mrs.  Middleton,  that  I  have  deferred  speak 
ing  to  the  last." 

He   he.-itatt-d,  and    his  eyes  were   fixed   sadly  for  a  moment 
npon   the.  fan-  of  Flora,  then,  as  he  met  her  glance,  they  were 

:ly  aver' 

"  What  is  that,  sir  ?"    !p:'-.;.n-«0'l  t!  e 

11  It  is  thi-,  mada-     :    '''ere  is  o:  •  _    by   which    it    is 

idling   tl.c  t:t.-ifc   Ahifl:  v\ill 

1  In  G?  V<*  nv:  -.  it  be  resorted  to '' 

—  if  it  be  proper,  onl .  1  ioru, 

.  upon  ti,.-  ther 

"Ort;iiul;     -  .child."  w«s  a  and 

ill  this 

!.       i    an,  <-tim 

<\    Were 
(  in  tlu-ir 

tfl    '     '  .'-i  h "t  think  KM  meanly  of  u>y 


444  TI1K   SCOUT. 

lyother  and  myself,"  was  the  hasty  interruption  of  Flora  Middle- 
ton,  "as  to  fancy  that  we  could  be  pleased  at  your  giving  up 
any  security,  however  partial,  such  as  our  house  affords  vmi. 
because  of  the  possible  annoyance  to  which  we  might  be  sub 
jected  on  account  of  this  banditti.  I  trust  that  you  will  be 
able  to  defend  the  house,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  do  so  to 
the  last," 

The  outlaw  seemed  to  catch  fire  at  the  manner  of  the  gen 
erous  girl.  ITcr  own  flashing  eyes  were  full  of  a  flame  to 
impart  enthusiasm  to  the  dullest  spirit;  and  he  exclaimed,  with 
a  more  genuine  feeling  of  zeal  than  was  usual  with  him  :  — 

"  And,  by  heavens,  1  will  !  You  have  stifled  the  only  doubts 
which  I  had  of  the  propriety  of  making  your  house  niv  ca>lle. 
I  need  not  say  to  you  that  the  hostility  of  these  scoundrels  to  me 
is,  perhaps,  little  more  than  a  pretence.  Even  were  I  given  up  to 
them,  and  in  their  hands,  they  would  probably  sack  your  d wel 
ling.  They  arc  just  now,  I  suspect,  released  from  nearly  all 
restraint  and  subjection,  and  about  to  fly  the  country.  L<>nl 
Rawdon  has  gone,  or  is  on  his  way  below,  by  another  route, 
with  all  his  forces;  and  the  men  of  Sumter,  Lee,  and  Marion, 
are  pressing  at  the  heels  of  his  lordship.  Perhaps  I  speak  with 
literal  accuracy  when  I  say  tT:?,t  your  safety  depends  on  mine. 
If  I  fail  to  make  good  the  house  against  these  Black  Riders — 
JIM  ah eady  know  their  character — I  t.  err, Me  for  you!  Your 
safety  shall  be  no  less  in  my  thoughts,  eurrng  tr.ie  conflict,  than 
my  own;  and  I  repeat,  once  more,  rr-y  readinesi  to  die  before 
outrage  and  violence  shall  cross  your  threshold.'' 

"We  thank  you,  sir  —  from  the  bottom  of  ;"«r  hearts,  ?e 
thank  you,  Mr.  Conway " 

Morton  bowed,  as  he  interrupted  tVs  strain  of  feminine  ac 
knowledgment  :  — 

"  Let  me  now  beg  you  to  seek  the  gmvt ;  there  you  will  be 
in  tolerable  safety.  If  we  do  not  again  irret,  <1"  me  the  justice 
to  believe  that  I  spared  neither  limb  nor  life  in  your  behalf.  I 
may  fall,  but  I  will  not  falter." 

"God  be  with  you,  Mr.  C«»mvay  !  '  1TM  the  ejaculation  of 
both  ladies.  A  bluf-b  linked  the  rlir.-k  i.f  thr  •Mitlaw  — a  trem 
ulous  emotion  pasp'Ml  through  hi>  veins.  "When,  before,  had 


-i.i\«;  ON  ARMOR.  44.*i 

•t>\m\  of  the  pi  irteiva    such    an   invocation    ir: 

:  omen  of  'IV —  such  was  his  reflection  —  "that 
it    i<    sj.>ken,   as   it   w  r,    in    the   last    moment    of 

'•  I  ihauk  you,  Mrs.  Mnldleton  ;   I  thank  you"  — to  Flora,  1  i;1 
•id  not  speak  her  name.     Tiie  direction  of  his  eye  indicated 
I  lu-  person  to  whom  ho  spoke.     His  look  and  air  were  not 
droit.      He   .still   remembered  1'i^  policy;    and  Flora   Midi!1 
n  she  turned   awny.  t"  ,,1   not  oft< 

bier-looking  penon  ntra-t  between  himself  and  Mr 

Hillh'  :i  ->>.   pn-haps,   help.  •-.!    t-   streMirthen  this  impres-ion.       A 

,<•    mi.nkey   is,  of  all  uhjrcts,  tl:e    most   lugubrious,  and   the 

i'  the  outlay/  had  suddenly  made  the  surgeon 

Hr  reilly  did   not  imagine  that   thin..  ;M  BO 

deplorable  a  condition.     Thinking  over  them  rendered  him  fur- 

.!  of  his  fine  I  md   the  attempt  which   he  ma«], 

tin--.  •  address   to   the  1  . 

:idicr,i.-:;s  wit:  1    elahoratc  and  strained  \\itli- 

•  f'd.    Wnen  they  had  gone,  Mr.  Hilll 

•y  tongue,  and  once  more  began  to  int; 
t    »  jn-Mpriety  of  terms  and  a  M?g  of  truce. 

In  India,  once,  an  affair  of  the  Sepoys  —  very  much  like  the 

M  of  mutiny  and  insr.r.wtion — '' 
"  N  •  m  m  '»f  this  nonsense,"  said   Morton,  with  the.  old  habit 

ininand  which   belonged   to   the   captain  of  the  nY. 
ditti   by  wliich    he  was    now   threatened.      •'  It's   rime,  Mr.  Ilill- 

I  man,  if  you  ever   hope  to   bo   like  one.      I' 
bear  that  trumpet,  sir  ?      It    is   a  summons  —  it    opens   the   bu-i- 
fotl  talk  of  terms  and    overtures  —  how  do   vmi   like   (he 

of  making  them  from  the  balcony  of  yonder  porch  .;    AV 

;  f      Y«-t    it    must    be    d-me.       M;-   '     I 
•idows  !      Cover  the   approach    to   (lie    j.oivh,  and   B\ 
t-i'l  —  see  tiiat  no  man  (••uues  within  pi>tol-shot.     I,  mysolf, 
with  these  scoun.'.. 

'.-liich  divided    the    d\veb 

:!iios\n   ,.peu.  and    (lie  .mtlaw  p-  '  iui- 

i^e   lilack     :«  wlio    had 


1  !'»  I'm:  ><"(»TT. 

assembled,  some  thirty  or  fort^  h.  detached 

about  fifty  yards  t'n.in  tin-  buihliug.      A  yvil  of  f< 

ti-jii  hailed  his  appearance  from  b<-low,  and 

feelings  of  malicious  liate  with  which   they  had    b«v  i     \ 

upon  to  regard  their  ancient  leader. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

THK    SIFGE    AND   STORM. 

A  SMILK  of  mixed  bitterness  and  aeiision  pasMMi  ^vcr  t.hi   lips 
of  the  outlaw,  as  he  hearkened  to  the  rade  but  mighty  :!pr«.:ii. 

"Dogs!"  he  muttered,  "  th^re  was  a  time  when  I  v 
made  you  crouch  beneath  the  lash  to  your  proper  aUituur--. .  — 
and  I  may  do  so  yet.     I  am  not  wholly  pr.werh 

As  they   shouted,  an   involuntary  movement    waft    '.  • 
several   among  them.     They   rushed   toward   him,   as   if  \ 
purpose  had  been  to  approach  him  with  determined  violen.v. 
Several  of  them  were  dismounted,  and  these,  waving  their  pis 
tols   aloft,  were  evidently  disposed  to  bring  themselves  within 
the  necessary  distance  which   should  permit  of  the  certain   use 
of  their  weapon.     But  Morton,  in  the  intervals  of  their  clamor, 
suffered  them  to  hear  his  brief,  stern  command  to  the  musket. 
whom  they  might  behold  at  the  windows,  to  be  in  readiness  and 
watchful. 

"  Shoot  down  the  first  scoundrel  that  advances    with   arms. 
Take  good  aim  and  spare  none,  unless  I  bid  ye." 

This  order  produced   a   pause  in   their  career.      Some  i: 
tude    seemed    to    prevail    among   them,   and,   at    length.  Morton 
distinguished,  benr-ath    a    tree    in    the    distance,  the    pi 
Stockton,  Darcy,  and   two   others,  who   were   evident Iv   l-usy  in 
the  work  of   consultation.      He    himself  quietly    took    his 
upon  one  of  the  benches   in   the    balcony,  an  1    pniieii'ly  ^-nited 
the  result  of  this  deliberation.      His   pistols,  broad-inm. :•.-.«   m»J 
long,  of  the  heaviest    raliluv,  ueiv    ready  i 
and  all  well  loaded  with  a  brace  of  balls. 


Tin:  117 

Meanwhile,  hi-  ;«1    manner,  and    the 

"ii  disp! 

'    •  .'munition  :iin«in^    the  crowd.      They 

evidenth  themselves   into   fury,  as   docs  tin-   hull 

when  he  desir.  iiict  for  which    he  is  not    \  et    BU 

blinded  ami  maddened.     Cries  of  various  kinds,  but  all  intended 
iniulate  their  hostility  to  him,  wore  studiously  repeated   by 
the  emissaries  of  1.  N    '    the    least    influential  « 

lilated    upon   the   spoils   to    he    gathered    from 
contemplated    sack    of    the    ban-ny —  an    argument    which    had 
most    probably  been    mmv    potent    than    any  other   in   seducing 
them    away  from    their  fealty  to    the    insubordinate    <'< 

.ton. 

M<>rton  watched  all  those  exhibitions  without  apprehension, 
though  not  without  anxiety  ;  and  when  he  turned,  and  gave  a 
glance  to  his  few  followers  within  the  house  —  drilled  men,  stub 
born  and  inflexible,  who  could  easier  die,  under  the  command 
to  d<>  s«».  than  obey  the  impulse  to  flight  without  hearini: 

sounded,  but  who  had  no  other  resources  of  mind  and 
cha:  "lid  the  do^'ed  resolution  tnujrht  by  their  ir.il/ 

—  his    heart    n  :i.      He    felt  what    he  himself  iiii^ht 

ID  command  of  the  Hlaek    Iii>!ers   airainst   such    defende: 
he   then  po>s-  ::d  he   did    not    deceive   him  the 

pri'i  lit.      One    hope    yet    remained.      It  was   that  V 

MC where    busy  in    his   behalf.      1 1 
vond  the  park,  in  the  direction  of  the  hi^h  road,  in 
the  vain  Impe  to  see  his  confederate,  with  some  hastily-gathered 
marching    to    !  .-.      At    that  very   moment    (Jray 

«|uiverinjr    in    the    few    brief    a^oiii.  th,   which    lie 

endured  under  the  sabre  of  Clarence  ('on 

The  deliberat'.  --•  -ckton  and  hi  were  80011 

:i    end,  and  with    them  the   doul  •  outlaw.      Stockton 

Irmself  made  his  appearance  in  the  foreground,  bearing   a  white 
h-ndkerchief  fast.  !injr.      II:- 

.    spread  out  upon  the  earth.  :Voni 

when  he  came  fairly  into  si^ht.      !!'  .  hich 

;.<led  to  inspire  confidence  in  hii  Il«»v 

lictatcil  by   1  '. 


448  THE   SCOUT. 

"They  must  see  tliat  you're  as  bold  as  Ned  Mort'-n.  He 
comes  out  in  full  front,  and  you  must  do  no  less.  You  must  go 
to  meet  him.  It  will  look  well  among  the,  men." 

Tli ere  were  some  misgivings  in  Stockton's  mind  as  to  the 
probable  risk  which  he  incurred;  nor  was  Darcy  himself  en 
tirely  without  them.  Morton  they  knew  to  be  desperate  ;  and 
if  he  could  conjecture  their  intentions  toward  him,  they  could 
very  well  understand  how  gladly  he  would  avail  himself  of  fche. 
appearance  of  Stockton  to  extinguish  the  feud  in  his  blood. 
The  idea,  in  fact,  crossed  the  mind  of  Morton  himself. 

"That  scoundrel!" — he/muttered  as  Stockton  approached 
him  — "  is  the  cause  of  all.  Were  he  out  of  the  way  —  and  a 
single  shot  does  it ! — but,  no  !  no  !  —  he  has  put  down  his  arms  ; 
and  then  there's  that  base  scoundrel  Darcy  in  the  background. 
Were  I  to  shoot  Stockton,  he  would  bring  out  another  of  these 
blood-hounds  to  fill  his  place.  I  should  gain  nothing  by  it. 
Patience !  Patience !  I  must  bide  my  time,  and  wait  for  the 
turn  of  the  die." 

Meanwhile,  Stockton  advanced,  waving  aloft  his  symbol  of 
peace.  Morton  rose  at  his  approach,  and  went  forward  to  the 
railing  of  the  balcony. 

"  Well," — he  demanded — "  for  what  purpose  does  Lieutenant 
Stockton  come?" 

"  Captain  Stockton,  if  you  please.  He  comes  to  know  if  you 
are  ready  to  deliver  yourself  up  for  trial  by  the  troop,  as  was 
agreed  upon  by  Watson  Gray  yesterday." 

"  Let  Watson  Gray  answer  for  himself,  Captain  or  Lieutenant 
kton.  He  will  probably  be  upon  your  hacks  with  Coffin's 
.Iry  in  twenty  minutes.  For  me,  sirrah  —  hear  the  only  an 
swer  1  make.  I  bid  you  defiance  ;  and  warn  you  now  to  get 
to  your  covert  with  all  expedition.  You  shall  have  five  minute* 
to  return  to  your  confederates;  if  you  linger  after  that  time  — 
ay,  or  any  of  your  crew  —  you  shall  die  like  dogs.  Away  !" 

The  retort  of  Stockton  was  that  of  unmeasured  abuse.  A 
volume  of  oaths  and  execrations  burst  from  his  lips  ;  but  Morton 
resuming  his  seat,  cried  to  the,  musketeers  — 

"Attention  —  make  ready-r-take  aim!" 

Kwwgh   was   effected,   without   making   necessary   the   final 


Tii:  -H! 

command,  to  "  fnv 

iiified  retreat  ;   and,  stumhli'; 

:'  tin-    wood,  fell,   head  '    at   full 

_:h  along  the  earth,  to  t1  .cut  of  s<> 

tion  of  others  a'.uong  hi-  comrades. 

Tlie  fury  of  nt  5   «i»d 

he  proceeded,  with  due  dilig  •••     'I'; 

j  were  suddenly  commanded   to   disappear  from    : 
..id;  and  •  vard  Morton  saw  them   again,  t! 

in   detached   parties,  preserving   DOTt  11   as   they   could, 

along  thr  :   the  park,  the  avenue,  a  small  thicket  of 

thai  lay  along  the  northern  skirt-  of  the  man 
sion-house,   a:-:.l   such   of  the  outhouses  and   dome 
could  hrir,;:  them  iie.-.r  enough  to  act  upon  the.  defenders  without 

::re  of  themselves. 

The   1  ody   thus   distrihuted   was   formidahly   minien-us  when 
i-.iTiip  !i  that  of  Morton.     His  estimate  maoje  them  little 

than   sixty  men.      Immediately  in  front,  though  heyon  ; 
sure  reach  of  musketry,  Stockton,  himself,  prepared   to  take  his 
stand,  surrounded  hy  some  half  dozen  of  his  troop;   and  among 
these,  to  the.  increased  annoyance  of  Morton,  he  saw  one 
unslung  a  rifle  from  his  shoulder.     At  this  sight  lie  './5th- 

divw  from  the  halc-'iiy,  secured  tho  door,  and  comma: 
musketeers  to  sink  from  sight,  and  avoid  unnecessary  « 

warning  was  just  in  season.     In  the.  very  instant  while  he 
spoke  tip  -  shattered  ahove  his  own  head,  and  the  sharp, 

ch-ar  sound  which  accompanied  the  event   attested   the   peculiar 
utterance  of  the  rifle. 

•'  A  little   too  much    powder,  or  a   young  hand,"   said    ?' 
COoDj  ••  me  your  musket,  one  of  \ 

He  took  his  place  at  the  window,  detached  the  hayonet   from 
the  inu/xle  of  the  gun,  and  handed  it  hack  to  the  soldier. 

f..r   the   steel" — meaning   the   hayonet  —  "the   smooth 
•  would  he  a  child's  pla\  tiling  against  that  riile.      But  I  have, 
made    a  musket  tell  at   a   hundred   yards,  and   m,v  \Ye 

must  mux/le  that  rille  if  we  can." 

The 
\i6  dull,  heavy,  roar  was  heard,  auakening  all  the  t'  the 


}'r>0  THE   SCOUT. 

surrounding  woods.  The  men  rushed  to  the  window,  and  as  the 
smoke  lifted,  they  perceived  that  the  party  of  Stockton  was  dis 
persed,  while  one  man  stood,  leaning,  as  if  in  an  attitude  of  suf 
fering,  against  a  tree.  The  rifle,  however,  appeared  in  another 
hand  at  some  little  distance  off.  Morton  shook  his  head  with 
dissatisfaction,  as  he  recollected  that  while  there  were  fifty  men 
in  the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  to  whom  the  rifle  was  a  familiar 
non,  to  disarm  one,  or  a  dozen,  was  to  do  little  or  nothing 
for  his  own  and  for  the  safety  of  his  party.  In  a  few  moment.s 
after,  sudden  cries  and  a  discharge  of  firearms  from  the  opp 
quarter  of  the  building  betrayed  the  beginning  of  the  strife 
where  Mr.  Hillhouse  commanded. 

"Keep  as  well  covered  as  you  can,  men  ;  but  watch  well 
that  they  do  not  close  in  with  you.  You  are  but  twelve  feet 
above  them,  and  at  that  distance  a  pistol  is  quite  as  dangerous 
as  a  musket.  I  leave  you  for  an  instant  only,  to  look  at  the 
rear." 

There,  he  found  Hillhouse,  doing  his  duty  as  bravely  as  if  he 
had  no  fine  uniform  at  hazard. 

"  You  take  a  needless  risk,"  said  Morton,  as  he  beheld  him 
flashing  one  of  his  pretty,  but  trifling  weapons,  at  the  invaders, 
and  exposing,  the  while,  his  entire  person  to  their  aim.  "There 
will  be  time  enough  for  that  when  they  are  pressing  through 
the  breach." 

"They  are  at  it  now,"  said  the  other,  with  a  momentary  for- 
getfulness  of  all  his  circuitous  phraseologies.      "  They've 
ladders,  and  are  trying  to  mount." 

"Indeed!"  cried  the  outlaw,  drawing  his  sabre  from  the 
sheath,  and  pushing  Hillhouse  aside,  with  a  seeming  forget  ful 
ness  of  his  own  wounds  and  infirmities,  lie  approached  the 
window,  and  saw  the  truth  of  the  surgeon's  representations.  A 
squad  of  the  Black  Riders  had,  indeed,  pressed  forward  to  the 
wall  sufficiently  nigh  to  plant  against  it.  the.  rack,  which  thev 
had  taken  from  the  stables;  and  which  furni.-hed  them  a  solid 
and  sufficient  ladder  to  cany  up  two  men  abreast.  Hillhouse. 
in  his  haste  had  suffered  the  four  musketeers  who  had  been  al 
lowed  him,  for  the  defence  of  the,  rear,  to  fire  simultaneously, 
and,  in  the  interval  required  by  them  to  n-].:ad  their  pieces,  the 


•;<1  li.-ilf  a  were  al 

• 

!{<•! 
y.-nr  .      -tols  for  close  conflict,  Mr.  Ilillhouse —  they  an-  lit 

cool,  obst  :'law,  receded  a  moment  from  the 

:<>w.  while  .ill  without,  shivered    the 

-I   this   discharge,  only,  to    advance,   and  with 

f  pistols   at    t1  moment. 

:st  when   the   ladder   was  most    darkened,  and 

ling,  with  their  l'>: 

Of  the  forem<  :;ts,  when  the  broad  muzzles  met  their 

•lutely  forward  up  the  ladder. 

ullet  through  his   brain  and    tumbled    headlong  |  ;u-kward  ; 
wliile  the  other,  with  less  audacity,  endeavoring   t 

:i\vard    by  tliose    behind    him.      lie    had  t:  ative 

; r.rowing  himseli'  over,  which   he   did   at  the   risk   of  a 

broken    neck;    and    the    bullets   of  the    remaining   pistol,  which 

.rawn   from  his  belt,  W<  Led  upon  the  reM 

whom  tli 

This  discharge   h.i-.l   the   eii'rrt    of  ch-aring   th- 
instant;  .  ;nnding  two  of  the  musketi 

had   now  reloaded,  to  keep   the 

ii   from   an   adjoining  v.  :.  with   the    a: 

the  remaining  two,  t-.  draw  the  ladder  up,  and   into  the  window 
fflSt  which   it   r-.-tO'i.      H-.it    the  weight  of  the  i:  frame 

.:gth  ;   and  the  outlaw  cont. 

liich    formed    its    Mejis, 
•Id  reach.      He    had  QO!  iin- 
Mimmoned   to  the  front.      Theiv. 
!.-d  in  drawing  the  fire  of  th- 

a  jiermam-nt  1..  '.gment  beneath 

;  w 

en  most 

tnally  ^ieltereil    f:  :!t    fiom  ftl  :Majn 

they  th.'  ther- 

..any  of  them  ! 
could  not  by  the    soldiers.      Tiieir    -onjec-ture, 


452  THE  SCOUT. 

represented  it  at  ten  at  least  —  a  force  fully  equal  to  that  which 
was  engaged  in  the  defence. 

The  brow  of  Morton  grew  darker  as  he  discovered  this  cir 
cumstance.  The.  net  of  the  fates  was  evidently  closing  around 
him  fast ;  and,  for  a  moment,  he  gazed  anxiously  over  the  dis 
tant  stretch  of  the  road,  in  the  fond  hope  to  see  Watson  Grav 
riding  in  to  his  succor.  But  he  turned  away  in  hopelessness  at 
last.  His  despondency  did  not,  however,  lead  to  any  relaxation 
of  his  courage,  or  of  that  desperate  determination,  which  he  en 
tertained,  to  make  the  fight  as  terrible  to  his  foes  as  their  hos 
tility  threatened  to  he  terrible  to  him.  A  momentary  cessation 
of  the  strife  appeared  to  have  taken  place.  The  outlaws,  who 
were  beneath  the  balcony,  remained  perfectly  quiescent. 

"  They  can  do  nothing  there,  unless  we  let  them.  Now,  men, 
do  you  keep  your  arms  ready.  Throw  away  no  shot  at  the 
cracking  of  a  pistol.  What  should  it  matter  to  yon  if  the  fo«/ls 
snap  their  puppies  all  day  at  a  distance  of  fifty  yards.  Let  no 
more  of  them  join  these  below  the  porch,  if  you  can  help  it  — 
let  none  of  these  get  away  if  bullets  can  stop  their  flight  ;  but 
do  not  all  of  you  fire  at  once.  Keep  one  half  of  your  muskets 
always  in  reserve  for  the  worst." 

While  giving  these  instructions,  Morton  was  prepared  in  get 
ting  his  own  weapons  in  readiness.  The  strife  once  begun,  with 
the  loss  of  men  to  the  assailants,  could  not,  he  well  knew,  come 
to  an  indefinite  or  sudden  conclusion.  There  was  to  be  more  uf 
it,  and  his  chief  apprehensions  now  arose  from  the  party  which 
had  found  lodgment  under  the  portico  below.  To  the  lower 
story  he  despatched  one  of  his  soldiers,  whom  he  instructed  to 
remain  quiet,  in  the  under  passages  of  the  house,  in  order  to 
make  an  early  report  of  any  movements  which  might  take  place 
in  that  quarter. 

lie  had  scarcely  adopted  this  precaution  before  the  clamors  of 
battle  were  again  renewed  in  the  part  where  Hillhouse  was  sta 
tioned.  Twenty  shots  were  fired  on  both  sides,  without  inter 
mission,  in  as  many  seconds,  and,  in  the  midst  of  all,  a  deep 
groan  and  the  fall  of  a  heavy  body  in  the  adjoining  room,  struck 
cold  to  the  heart  of  Morton.  He  could  ill  afl'ord  to  lose  any  one 
of  his  small  array  lie  hurried  tc  the  scene  of  operations,  anJ 


THK  SIK<;K  AND  STORM  468 

found  i'nat    one  of  '.he  li;ul   f,i«lrn.      He   still    lived,  but 

the  wound  was   in  his  bosom  ;   and  a   hurried  inspection   showed 

it  to  b€  from  the  fatal  rifle.      The  ragged  orifice,  wrought  by  the 

lutions  of  the  deadly  twist,  was  largo   enough   to 

have  received   a  -mall  fowl   egg.     The  dying  man  looked  up  to 

the  outlaw,  as  if  to  a>k  if  there  was  any  hope.      So  Morton  un- 

the  appealing  inquiry  in  hi  vl   he  answered  it 

with  soldierly  frank: 

11  Make    v>ur   p.-aee  wi'li    ( Jod,  my  good    fellow;    it's  all  over 
yWL      You'll  he  dead  in  five,  miir 

,  -liivered   fearfully,  then   turned  upon 
His    arm-    WGK    once    stretched    out — his  lingers    en 
.  Ted  to  grasp  the  lloor,  then  relaxed,  then  stiffened,  and  lie 
lay  unconscious    of  the   rest.      He    was   dead.      Morton    stepped 
•>ver  his  l.ndy  and  took  a  hurried  glance  at  the  window. 
••  We  have  shot  three  of  them,"  said  Hilllionse. 
••  Would  it  were  thirty  !     Hut  all  will  not  do.     Are  you  loaded, 
men.  am! 

••  Ye-  !"   was  the  answer  of  all. 

"Then  keep  ready,  hut  keep  out  of  sight.  Wait  till  they 
mount  the  ladder,  expend  no  more  shot,  hut  rely  on  the  push  of 
the  bayonet.  There  are  four  of  you,  and  they  have  but  the  out 
bidder.  The  rifle  can  not  he  used  while  they  are  on  it,  and  at 

lier  time  need  you  show  yourselves." 

Such  were  the  hurried   directions  of  the  outlaw,  which   were 
interrupted   by   the   renewal  of  the  conflict.     Once  more   they 
i  the    ladder,  but,  this  time,  the    clamors   arose    also  in 
front.      The  attack  was  simultaneous  in  both  quarters. 

"Oh,  for  twenty  muskets,  but  twenty,"  —  cried  the  now  thor- 

ly  aroused   Morton,  as  he  made  his  wny  once  more  to  the 

little  s(juad  which  he  had  left  in  front — "and  dearly  should  they 

for  this  audacity!      Nay,  if  I  only  had   my  own  strength  !" 

.urmured.  as  he  leaned,  half  fainting,  against  the  door-lintel 

in  the  : 

A  new  assault    from  another   quarter,  aroused    him  to  the  coil- 

Miereasing    dangers,  and  stimulated   him    anew 

wit!  Mgth    to   meet   it.     The   thunders   of  an  axe  were 

h"ar  '    the  L.wer  door  of  the  entrance,  and  from  the  por- 

tico  \\here  the  paity  had  previously  found  a  lodirment. 


4M  THE   SCOUT. 

•This  'A  an  what  1    K  ared  !      The  trial,  the  danger,  is  1;, 

But  the  game  i---  <  ;ie  at  which  Loth  of  us  may  do  mischief. 
•  i-iust  he  there  to  meet  them.  Heaven  send  that  Stockton 
Muiy  be  the  first  to  liml  entrance!" 

The  soldier  now  appeared  from  below  giving  him  the  infor 
mal  ion,  which  he  no  longer  needed,  of  the  dangers  that  threat- 
!    from   that   quarter.     The  cheering  reply  of  Morton   sent 
him  down  again. 

"Ay,  ay,  back  to  your  post!  You  shall  have  help  enough 
before  they  get  in  —  before  you  need  it." 

From  the  upper   part  of  the  house  he  drew  all    tl 
with  the  exception  of  three.     One  of  these  kept  his  place  in  the 
front,  the  other  two  in   the  rear,  where  the  attempt  had   ! 
r.'.ade  to  force  an  entrance  by  means  of  the  ladder.     These  sta 
tions  were  left  under  the  direction  of  the  surgeon.     The  greater 
danger  was   now  below.     He   considered   the   efforts   of  th<;>e 

O 

above  to  be  feints  simply. 

"  Mr.  Hillhouse,  you  have  only  to  be  wary.     Your  two  bay- 
'.i.ets,  with  your  own  pistols,  will  keep  down  all   your  enemies. 
But,  should  you  apprehend   otherwise,  draw  the    musket   from 
the  front  of  the  house  to  your  assistance.     There,  is  perhap- 
likelihood   of  assault   from    that   quarter.       Below    the   stn: 
must  be  made  hand   to  hand.     The   passage  is  narrow,  ami 
Mont  men  maybe  able  to  keep  it  against  twenty.     Farewell,  sir 
—  he  firm  —  I  may  never  see  you  again." 

The  surgeon  had  some  tender  philosophy,  gleaned  from  his 
usual  vocabulary  of  common-places,  to  spend,  even  at  such  a 
moment,  and  Morton  left  him  speaking  it. 

He  hurried  down  stairs  with  the  six  soldiers,  whom  he  sta 
tioned  in  the  passage-way,  but  a  little  in  the  hack-ground,  in 
older  that  they  should  not  only  escape  any  hurt  from  the  flying 
fragments  of  the  open  door  as  it  should  be  hewn  asunder,  hut 
that  a  sufficient  number  of  the  banditti  might  be  allowed  to  pen 
etrate  and  crowd  the  opening.  Meanwhile  the.  strok- 
axe.  continued  with  little  interval.  The  door  was  one  of  th<  se 
ancient,  solid  structures  of  oak,  double.!  and  plated  with  ribs 
which,  in  our  day,  might  almost  be  employed  for  beams  and 
rafters.  It  had  been  eonstiuc'ed  wi;h  some  reference;  to  a  siege 


\.vn  STORM. 


-1  no  artillery  ;    and  its  •  did 

not    bailie.  yet    breathed    i. 

il    application    of  tin-    I    B,      A      :  '.  •     -    '. 
tlew   around   tin-in,  Morton  wiped   the   heavy  and   (dam 
i'min  his  forehead.      ("old   chills  were  upon  him,  and    \et  he    frit 
that    their  was   a  burning   fever   in    his   hrain.      The   excite: 
Ltj  —  the    transition   from    the    l>ed    of  wounds 
sick:  :..u.st  \vork  the  most  fatal  effects  even  ir  IK 

lUtt    the   solemn   conviction   had   i 

read  'id   that  he  was  nut   to   survive.      The  awful    'Pitl 

had  touched  his  innate   mind,  that,  in  a  lew  hours,  he  mu>t  he  a 

•;;e  va>t,  the  infinite,  the  strange  eternity. 
•  •Iy  !    1  >hall   not   find  it  hard  !"  was  the   audihle    B] 
which  this  conviction  forced  from  him.      lie  started  at  the  sound 
.      Thought   was  painful    and   torturing.      The 
pau>e  \\liich  had  heen  allowed  him,  left  him  only  to  agony  ;   and 
',  for  the  coming    m  of  the  strife,  and  the  reckle-s   con 
flict,  to  relieve  him  hy  their  terrilde  excitements,  from  tlnm.. 
and  feelings  still  ni«»re.  terrihle. 

relief,  dreadful  as  it    ihreatened    to  he,  was  now  at  hand. 
The  holts  which    secured    the    frame-work    of  the 

Some  of  the  panels  were  driven  in  —  and  the 
soldier  were  preparing  to  lunge  away,  through  the  o|M'iiing>.  at 
the  hearts  of  the  assailants.  Hut  this,  M«>rt"n  p.'MtiveK  forhid. 
In  a  whisper,  he  commanded  them  to  keep  silent  and  in  the 
background.  Their  muskets  were  levelled,  under  his  direction. 
rather  under  hreast  height,  and  presented  at  the  entrance;  and, 
n  this  portion,  he  awaited,  with  a  stillness  like  that  \\hicli  j.  re 
in,  for  that  m«ment  when  he  mi^ht  command  all 

1  with  the  unerring  certainty  of  fate. 

M"im-nts  now  hore  \\ith  them  the  awfi.l  the 

•   murmurs   deepened   from  without;    the  strokes  of  the 
'.•eeanie    redoiihled  ;    and   the   groaning   timhers,  yieldi: 

B    already  a    wreck.      Another    hlow,    and    tin- 
work  wasd«.j,,  -.ful  i-,>rta:  ,eil  ujion 

them  —  ere    the    e!  :nplete  —  a    will  cl 

>«dU  abo1  -the  ru'-h  of  hurrying  :  —the  shrieki 

uiiil    the  sh"t  —  announced  to  the   gloomy  outlaw,  below,  the 


4.^6  THE  SCOUT. 

~urrence   of  sonic   new  disaster.     His  defence*   were  driven   in 
abovr  ! 

A  troop  of  the  outlaws  had,  in  fact  already  effected  their  en 
trance.  They  had  literally  clambered  up  the  slender  columns 
of  the  portico  in  front — the  sentinel  placed  in  that  quarter  hav 
ing  hern  just  hefore  withdrawn  to  the  rear  hv  Hillhousc,  who 
defined  that  he  would  be  more  useful  there,  and  under  his  t 
mand.  This,  with  a  vanity  natural  to  such  a  person,  lie  desired 
to  make  as  respectable  as  possible.  Lifting  one  of  the  sashes, 
without  bring  heard  in  the  din  which  prevailed  below,  they  had 
found  their  way  silently  into  the  apartment.  Stealing  cautiously 
along  the  passage,  they  had  come  upon  the  Mirgeon,  while  him 
self  and  little,  squad  were  most  busy  with  the  assailants  from 
without.  The  skirmish  between  them  had  brcn  short.  The 
first  notice  that  Ilillhouse  had  of  his  danger,  was  from  the  pistol- 
shot  by  which  he  was  stricken  down.  His  men  turned  to  meet 
their  new  enemies,  and  in  the  brief  interval  that  ensued,  other 
f"i-s  dashed  up  the  ladder,  through  the  window,  into  the  apart 
ment,  and  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  the  conflict  there. 

Ilillhouse.  was  not  so  much  hurt  as  not  to  be  conscious,  before 
sinking  into  insensibility,  that  the  outlaws  were  already  stripping 
him  of  his  gorgeous  apparel.  His  scarlet  coat  had  already  passed 
into  the  hands  of  a  new  owner. 

Meanwhile  the  work  was  going  on  below.  Morton,  when  he 
heard  the  uproar  above,  readily  divined  the  extent  of  his  mis 
fortune.  But  he  was  not  suffered  to  muse  upon  it  long.  His 
own  trial  was  at  hand.  The  door  was  finally  driven  from  all 
its  fastenings,  there  was  no  longer  any  obstruction,  and  the  liv 
ing  tide  poured  in,  as  Morton  fancied  they  would,  in  tumultuous 
masses.  Then  came  the  awful  order  from  his  lips  to  "fire!" 
It  was  obeyed  by  the  first  file  of  three  men,  kneeling;  the  re 
maining  three  followed  the  example  a  moment  after;  and  yells 
of  anguish  ensued,  and  mingled  with  the  first  wild  shouts  of  tri 
umph  of  the  assailants  ! 

It  was  a  moment  of  mixed  pain  and  terror  !      Perhaps,  if  they 
could   have   recoiled,  they  would    have,   done,   so.     But  this  was 
now  a    physical   impossibility.      The  crowd   in  the   rear   piv 
forward  and  wedged  their  comrades  who  were  in  the  foreground  ; 


Tin:  b 

while   tl .<  :  plied    1.-:  :!iem.      Hut  what   couh.' 

l>i'  done,  in  that  way,  by  >i  x  men  in  a  hand  to  haml  conflict  with 
six  times  tlu'ir  number.  The  Mrife  was  dreadful,  hut  short 
Man  after  man  <>f  (he  -utlaws.  was  spiked  upon  tin1  dripping 
1  ;  hut  tho  nia>-s,  unahle  to  retreat,  were  driven  forward,  mad 
and  foaming,  under  the  feeling  of  desperation  which  now  fdled 
their  hearts.  They  had  now  ceased  to  think  or  fear,  and  rushed 
like  the  wild  hull  upon  the  ready  b.;_ 

;  under   the  sheer   pressure  of  their  crowding 

k  Aiders  darted  am»ngand  over  them,  searching  each  li 

>cpaiMel v  with  their  knives;   and  the  only  strife  which  now  re 
mained  was  from  the  unavoidable   conflict   among  theniM-h' 
their   jostling    and    conflicting    forms.      The    hoarse    aecen' 

kton  were  now  heard,  pre-eminent  above  the  uproar,  giving 
his  final  orders. 

ke  Ned  Morton  rJlve,  my  merry  fellows.      lie  owes  a  life 
to  the  cord  and  timber      Save  him  for  it  if  you  can." 
Morton  had  reserved,  himself  for  this  moment. 
"  Ye  have  tracked  the  tiger  to   his  den  !"  he  muttered,  in  the 
•Ladow  of  tin*  btairwav,  where  he   had  taken  his  position,  partly 
concealed  in  [lie  nhscurity  of  the  passage.      The  eri>is  of  hi- 

•it.  hand.      The   party  from  above  were  now  heard  hurrying 
downward,  «.o   mingle   in   the   wAr  heh>\v  ;   and    In- 

Is    aim -i'g    the    crowd   in    the    direction   of  8tOfktc;.' 
and  lired  —  and  not  without   etlect.      He  was  :  rate 

to   thro\v    av.ay  liis    bullets.      One    ol'  them    passed    through    the 
•dioulder  of  his  in\eterate  enemy,  who  was  in 
-\hile  the  other  prostrated  in  death  one  of  his  : 
id  fulliiu  . 

.    with    mingled    pain    and   fury,    and    with 
;  upon   his  !'  .-.      iY.ddy  ••'..•  nth 
•  MI  also  lifted    his   sword,  v1 
be-ide  him  for  greater  <  nl  adv.-'.: 

Inntly  to  meet  the  rutlian. 

. 

:-m.      Hut  tiie  ta-k>  thmuj;1.   whicdi  h. 
bad  .  1  lie    lii.ib    feb 


'  THE   SCOUT. 

cir  tin-  MMW  of  Stockton  de.scendnd.  lie  had  sunk  down  in  uttei 
insensibility  at  (lie  fret  of  ins  opponent. 

Tin*  conflict  was  ended.  The  pledge  made  to  tl 
the  mansion  had  heen  fully  redeemed  l>y  its  defenders.  \..| 
••!'  them  remained  unhurt;  and  the  greater  number  were 
already  stiffened  in  the  unrclazhlg  grasp  of  deatli.  rrhe  out- 
lav,  s  had  paid  dearly  for  their  victory.  No  le>s  than  sixteen  of 
(lie  assailants  had  been  slain  ;  and  the  arts  of  Stockton,  which 
had  originally  won  them  over  to  his  designs,  and  made  them 
h  •>:ih-  to  their  ancient  leader,  now  derived  additional  support 
iVcin  the  sanguinary  feeling  which  had  been  induced  hy  the 
hi.., i. ly  struggle  in  their  minds.  They  were  now  reconciled  to 
that  decree,  which  determined  that  Morton  should  be  their  vic 
tim.  They  needed  no  more  persuasion  to  resolve  that  he  should 
die  upon  the  gallows. 

The  first  impulse  of  Stockton,  as  he  straddled  the  inanimate 
body  of  the  man  whom  he  so  much  feared  and  hated,  was  tn 
spurn  it  with  his  foot  —  the  next  to  make  his  fate  certain  by  a 
free  use  of  his  sword  upon  it  ;  but  the  cold  malignity  of  his  char 
acter  prevailed  to  prolong  the  life  and  the  trial  of  his  enemy. 
The  utter  impotence  of  Morton  to  do  further  harm,  suggested  to 
Stockton  the  forbearance  which  he  would  not  otherwise  have 
displayed.  It  was  with  some  pains  only,  and  a  show  of  resolu 
tion  such  as  Morton  had  usually  employed  to  hold  them  in  sub 
jection,  that  he  wa>  enabled  to  keep  back  his  followers,  who,  in 
their  blind  rage^were  pressing  forward  witli  the  same  murderous 
purpose  which  he  had  temporarily  arrested  in  his  own  bosom. 
With  a  more  decided  malignity  of  mood,  he  gave  a  new  direc 
tion  to  their  bloody  impulses. 

"Away!"  he  cried,  "  get  a  hurdle,  or  something  that  will 
rake  hi-i»  oat  without  much  shaking!  He  has  life  enough  in 
Vu  I  yet  to-  fr  e  ''allows  !" 

A  rhou.  s  cond-'d  with   approbation   the   dark  suggestion,  and 
croml   rush*.  '    uvay  to    procure   the   necessary  conveyance. 
A.  door,  turn  i'l  -m  K      ".thouse,  answered   this  purpose;   and  the 
ui)l  breathing,  hm  motionless  form  of  Edward  Morton,  was  lifted 
dpon  it.      Unhappily,  he  wakened  to  consciousness  in  a  lew  mo 
after  ioavin.;  the  tiueMiold  of  the  dwelling.     The  purer 


TH  'M. 

Atmosphere  1  JKMIC<!    to  on 

counter    the    :  ;fnd    the    igniting    triumph,    of   the 

he  had  BO    lately  rule-!.      Hi      Ban  1TCW  filled  with  ilio 
his  1.1. ..-ily  resistance  had  stiinn- 

teinper. 

tter  pang  went   keenlv  thrOOgb  his  heart  ;    hnt   he  had  still 
pe.      He  had    kept  ..ne  hope    in    ie<ei\e  fur  M»mo  such  occa- 

•-.  when    he    first    commenced   tliat  dark  c; 
•me,  the  cruel    fruits,  of  which  he  was  about  to  reaj>.  he  had 
:  leil  himself  with  a  da--rr  —  a  small,  Mmit.  hut  slmrt  instru 
ment —  which    he   hid    within    his    l.(.*,,in.      ri"\\\s   instrument    he 
ted    to    i:  irticular   ]»urposo  of  taking   his  own   life. 

HI-  had   decreed   that    it    should   In-   sacred  —  n<»t  to  employ  lan- 
:nat(dy  —  to    the    «ne    work    of  suicide,    only. 
he    had    almo.st    violated    his    resolve.      The    - 
in-trument  he  had    proftered  to  ]>oor  Mary  Oarkson,  in  a  mood, 
and  at  a  moment  of  mockery,  scarcely  le>s  hitter  than  had  fallen 
to  his  own  Int.      The   rememhrance  of  the  circumstance  touched 
him  at  this  in>tant,  and    humhled,  in   some   degree,  the   exulting 
leeliisg  \\hicii  w.-ts   rising  in    his  '  ilection  oi 

nee.      Hut    he    did    exult,    neverthele  —  .       !!«•    felt    that    the 

ts  ^till  ahout  him,  hidden  within  the  folds  of  his  \ 
and,  with   thi*   knowle/t-e,  he  was    better   able  to  meet  the  vin 
dictive  glance  of  his  f«.e,  who  walked    beside  the  litter  on  which 
the  mitl.iw.s  were  hearing  him  to  the  \\ 

"  liring  him  to  the  Park !"  commanded  St«.ckton.    "  lie  wil 

hang  there  more  conspicaooslj,  as  a  warning  for  other  trait 

-     ! — not  there!"  said  1  ).ircy,  interposing,  "  the  ladies 
e  him  fi-Din  the  In 

•    \V.-1I,  and   a  very  good   sight    it    is,  too  !"  replied    the   other 
ily;   "tl.  n  him  often  enough  dancing  mi  the  earth 

i   fancy  ;    it  may  he  an  agreeable   change  to  behold  him  dai. 
.    a\\  iiile." 

ITOrdft,  however,  whispered  in  his  ear>  bv  Daicv, 
tiled  wit:  .;,-    in  hi>  i  -du- 

:i    of  the 

iicampment  of  :!.,-  I'd,. 

luiil  l.eei  'he  crowning  scene 

of  hate  and  pimi.shmciit  should  take 


4(30  THE  SCOU'i 


CHAPTER   XLJI. 

HATE    BAFFLED    BY    JUSTICK. 

MEANWHILE,  what  had  been  the  condition  of  mind  of  the 
in  the  dwelling?  They  had  heard  the  greater  part  of 
the  bloody  struggle  going  on  below  —  the  shots,  the  shouts,  tin- 
groans  and  shrieks,  and  all  the  infernal  clamors  of  that  strife  .•!' 
moral  feelings  and  physical  passions,  in  which  man,  alone,  of  .-'.11 
the  animals,  is  permitted  to  indulge.  The  rending  of  bolt  and 
bar  had  also  been  audible,  and  they  readily  conjectured  all  the 
rest.  They  finally  knew  that  the  barriers  were  forced  ;  and 
when  the  first  rush  of  the  strife  was  over,  and  the  silence  of 
death  prevailed  for  the  first  time  below,  then  did  they  feel  as 
sured  that  death  himself  was  there,  surrounded  by  all  his  melan 
choly  trophies. 

How  terrible  was  then  that  silence  !  For  the  first  time  during 
Jie  whole  period  of  their  suspense,  did  Flora  Middlcton  yield 
herself  up  to  prayer.  Before,  she  could  not  kneel.  While  the 
storm  raged  below,  her  soul  seemed  to  be  in  it;  she  could  not 
divert  it  to  that  calmer,  holier  contemplation,  which  invests  the 
purpose  with  purity,  and  lifts  the  eye  of  the  worshipping  spirit 
to  the  serene  courts  of  Heaven.  Her  father's  spirit  was  then 
her  own,  and  she  felt  all  its  stimulating  strength.  She,  felt  that 
she  too  could  strike,  should  there  be  occasion  ;  and  when,  at  one 
moment,  the  clamor  seemed  to  be  approaching,  her  eye.  kindled 
with  keener  fire,  as  it  looked  round  the  dim  attic  in  which  they 
had  sought  refuge,  as  if  in  search  of  some  weapon  which  might 
defend  it. 

"It's  all  over!"  at  length  she  exclaimed,  when  the  silence, 
had  continued  the  space  of  half  an  hour.  "  They  have  left  the 
house,  mother." 

44  Do  not  trist  to  go  out  yet,  my  child,"  was  the  answer  of  the 


HATH    r.\!-TLK!>    15 V    Jl  I'-l 

grandmother.      "I    fea  •  -r ;  —  for    wh\ 

should  they  leave  us  undisturbed, 

•  Bark]    mother! — there  is  a  m>ise  helow." 
••  Yes;    I    think   BO  '.       I   hear  it  !" 
"A  footstep! —  I  should   know  that    footstep!      A  voice!      It 

the  voice  of  Clarence  Conway." 
The  keei.  :    the  interested   heart  had   not  dccc'n  cd  the 

6DCC    Coiiwav    was,   indeed,  within    the    dwe!' 
With  liinhs  that  tremlded,  and  a  heart  that  shuddered  I 

'in'  YOUHL:  commander  trod  tin1  avenues  of  the  dwelling 

re  such    lil h  ;;t    every  f...,tstej).  .if  the  fearl'ul 

flic!    which    we    have    faintly   endeavored    to    d-  The 

vict!:  all    unknown    to    him,   and    their   uniforms,   ' 

.\\y  of  the  British  and    the   handitti,  did    not   awaken  in  him 
pathy  in  their  liehalf.      On   the   contrarv,  it  would  seem 
alone   had   fallen,  and    the    inference   was    natural 
•:i:li    that   they  had    fallen    hy  the   hands  <>f  those  who  i 

the  country. 

Hut  how  should   the    patriots    have   assailed   the  enemy  in  tin 
'.!inur   which,  hitherto,   aim»u:r    all    the    Americans,  had    heen 
:di  red  sacred  ?      Kven  though  it  had    heen  made  their  };la«-e 
.:    and   refuse,  sui-li.  he  would    ha\  e    preferred   it    to  re 
main,  sooner  than  its  peaceful    and   pure    sanctuary  .should  have 
.  dishonored    hy  surh    unholy  tokens.      Hut  the  more  serious 
concern  which    tnmhled    him.  ar«'s(.    t'roin    his   apprehension! 
r'loia   and    her  grandmother.      lie    hurried    through    the  several 
rhaml.ei>.  calling  on  their  names.      Well  miirht  his  v.iice  thicken 
with    a    hu-ky    Imrror.  a>    he    heard    the    re>poiises    nulv  of   tl.» 

ited    ajiartments,  in    -o   manv  DlOclung    echoes.      At    h  ; 
when  he  was  mo.-t    miserahle,  ami  whi-n,  in  his  further  search  in 
Hie    upper    chamhers,    he    dreaded   le-t    he    should    happen 
I  heir     mangled     r-  .     he    fancied, 

' 
• '  . 

•'    he 

|  etitio],  ,,1   tin 
he    hal    .  .    ft]  'he    attic 


THE   SCOUT. 

thrown    t.piM    in    the   next   instant,  and   tin-  \ •«•!»•«•  of  tlic  maiden 
summoned  liini  to  her  presence. 

lie  clasped  her  in  his  arms  with  a  fervor  which  could   not  he 
put    aside;   which    no    mere   looks  of  reserve  COuld  disCOUTftg 
repulse  ;   nay,  under  circumstance's  of  relief  to  the  maiden  which 
wrought  in  her  mind  a  momentary  forget  fulness  of  his  supposed 
perfidy. 

"Thank  God,  you  are.  safe!"  was  his  fervent  ejaculation; 
'hut  tell  me,  dear  Flora,  what  means  the  horrible  carnage  which 
has  taken  place  below  ?" 

"Oh,  riaronce —  your  brother!  Is  he  not  there  —  is  he  not 
among  the  slain  ?" 

"No!  he.  i>.  not  among  them  —  what  of  him  ?  I  see  n-  .ne 
•iinong  the  slain  hut  British  and  sworn  enemies." 

"  Then   they  have  made   him    prisoner — the  Black  R 
they  made  the  assault   upon   the    house    hecause   he    was   in    it  ; 
their   avowed   purpose   being   to    execute   death   upon  him   as  a 
rebel." 

A    -ad   smile    passed    over   the    lips  of  Clarence,  as   ho  heard 
words,  and  his  head  was  shaken  with  a  mournful  doubt. 

"  He  has  nothing  to  fear  from  Mr///,  Flora  !"  he  replied,  "  but 
where  are  they  .'      How  long  is  it  since  this  dreadful   affair 
place." 

"  Scarce  an  hour.  The,  horrible  strife  I  seem  to  hear  now 
To  my  senses  it  is  scarcely  ended." 

"Enough!  I  must  believe  you  then.  J  must  fall  upon  these 
bloodhounds  if  I  can.  Farewell,  dear  Flora  —  farewell,  for  a 
little  while." 

"  Imt  your  brother  —  remember,  (.Vh.m'l  Conway,  that  he  i* 
your  brothel1  !" 

11  Coh'iH'l  ('(inway  I"   ex-claimed  the  young  soldier,  with  a  sur- 
•   that,   was  greatly  increased   as  he  beheld  the  looks  of  the 
.-jieaker,  now  suddenly  «(;1!  an.l  fin/.- 

"  There   is   some:'  I  live  ;   and    it    all 

iome.s   from   tLr.t    SHIT..-  p    \  "U      r.     - 

uixious  '  • 

•  i  it.     I3ut  I  v.  .u,  ii    !  i 

—  he   may  bo  in  danger.     Those  bloody  wieich^H  vould  71  »t 


Ml 

vo  of 
i  plunder.     Hut   r  .-n   I 

you  won!  JM.      1    IP  1  runway, 

in !   l'l<»ra  Middletou,  T.  <-u  ! 
.ied  to  tli  inderer.     There  m  <-.\ 

. 

"There    sh.ill    be,  but    (ly    now,  if  yon  w.»ulil  be  «>! 

i  would  hv-.M'n  the  difficulties  .-.f  that  explanation," 

"  !  .  :t    will    li  isty 

uii'ii    ti-  i  i.i   yi'iu-  Mi';.n\\  liilc, 

•'.fat, 
till  you  lienr  my  voice.      F-n'rwi-ll." 

••  F.ururi!  !"•  -the  word   .  .ra  with  cinplKitic 

trr\  ;  her   heart    >he  wished  him,  oi'  all   "thei- 

well  !      She  looket!  with  a  lunging.  111  his  IK. Me 

form,  so    '  connnan<!ing,  >o  distin^nishcd  in  all    . 

'-,  uy    the    --nvern:.  jth    of  a   hi^h    an  I    learle>^ 

within. 

"  Can  .-uch  a  i»re.-e::fe  conceal  such  h.i>eiies>  !"  ^he  nmiimned, 

'.'.c    returned    to    ihe    attic.      "  Can  it  he,  dear  mother  '{"    was 

apparently  unmeaning   e\{i;c.s>;(,n    which    fell    involuntarily 

iV"in    her    lins,  as    ^h«'    i.nried    her    lace    in    hitter    anguish  in  the 

,  of  the  maternal  lady. 

'invay  in.:  his    tn»'.ji    in    motion.      Ilr 

in  a-lvai,  :it  of 

,  he    ha-!  of  intelli^-'iice  which  could 

'  'lack  Ixi'!'  him 

iiei^hhor!,  v     ;    an   indi\idual  was   «o   l.r 

around   the  dwellinj;.  :'  the  j»la: 

.ich  of  the  conflict,  took  Ili-ht   to  the  swamp-thickets  ;    and 
in  these  they  would   remain  until    h»n^  after  the  storm  had  0 
blown. 

Co:  .ed   forward    : 

!!'• 

Men    llighl   of   the 
banditti  from  the  mansion  house  befon-  t!  n.k«»(l  it.    The 


464  THE  SCOUT. 

idea  that  Edward  Conway  had  anything  really  to  fear  from 
those  whom  he  too  -,voll  knew  to  be  his  confederates,  was  some 
thing  of  an  ahsr.:.lity,  which  he  found  little  difficulty  in  dismis 
sing  from  hi;-'  mi,/l.  He  rejoiced,  at  the  first  moment  of  receiv 
ing  the  intelligence,  that  his  brother  lived  —  that  he  had  survived 
.in'  li.'rcer  c:>nllict  which  had  taken  place  between  them. 

Jnit,  an  instant  aft«>r,  and  he  almost  regretted  that  such  was 
tlic  case.  It  was  liis  duty  to  pursue  him  as  a  public  enemy, 
and  one.  <;f  a  cast  so  atrocious  that,  he  well  knew,  if  taken,  his 
life  would  probably  be  required  by  the  hands  of  the  summarv 
avenger.  The  storn  justice  wliich  in  those  days  required  blood 
for  blind,  had  long  since  selected  the  fierce,  chief  of  the  Black 
Kiders  as  a  conspicuous  victim  for  the  gallows;  and  Clarence 
Conway,  as  a  means  to  avoid  this  cruel  pos\s:]-ility,  issued  the 
sanguinary  orders  to  his  troop  to  show  no  quarter.  The  tcn- 
dcrest  form  of  justice  called  for  their  extermination  in  the  short 
est  possible  manner. 

This  resolve  was  made  and  the  command  given,  after  he  had 
been  advised  by  the  scouts  that  the  enemy  were  collected  in 
force  upon  an  open  ground  on  the  river  bluff,  a  short  mile  and  a 
half  above.  The  scouts  reported  that  a  good  deal  of  confusion 
appeared  among  them,  but  they  could  not  approach  sufficiently 
nigh  to  ascertain  its  particular  occasion  ;  having  returned,  in 
obedience  to  orders,  .-"•  toon  as  they  had  traced  out  the  enemy's 
place  of  retreat.  They  als<  1  to  Conway  the  further  in- 

ti-Jlig-eiKie  that  they  might  have,  gone  much  nearer  with  impu- 
nitv — that  the  foe,  so  far  from  forming  an  ambush,  had  not,  in 
fact,  taken  the.  usual  precautions  against  attack — had  not  thrown 
-.lit  any  sentinels,  and  might  be  surprised  with  little  difficulty. 

Up«m  hearing  this,  Clarence  Conway  gave  orders  for  a  divis 
ion  of  hi.--,  force  into  three  equal  parties;  one  of  which  was  de 
spatched  to  make  •:«.  -Mcuit,  and  gain  a  point  above  them  on  the 
river;  a  see..:;.-!  wan  ordered  to  traverse  the  river  banks  from 
below  ;  while  he,  hiv,-e.!f,  leading  on  the  third  division,  was  to 
burst  suddenly  upon  them  from  the  forest  —  the  nearest,  point 
from  which  the  attack  could  be  made. 

had   ;-c;;rcely  been  given,  before  the  sound  of  a 
rifle  was  heard,  in  tin-    iiicction  of  the  «*pot   where  the  outlaw! 


HATI:  i;\rn.i:i>  r.v  J 

were  assembled,  ami  this  was  followed  hy  a  confused  cl 
oi'iK  •      What 

meaning  "f  that  si. 

I  thrv  apprized  uf  his  approach  I      ('  '  '  "iiway,  in  all 

tares,  maile   no   >>»rt  of  approach  to  tin*  real  natr,; 
that  cm'  rille-shot,  ami  yet  it  wa  importance  to  him  and 

'.iiiirs.      It  rendered  a  portion  of  his   ta.-dc  less  irksome, 
and  far  less  difficult. 

Si'  h-.l  the  way  for  his  division — m>t  a  hu-le  -..umled 

,-iive  a  wind  was  spoken,  ami  the  parties  separated   on   their 

:al  courses,  with  no  more  noise   than  was   unavoidable,  from 

tin-  regular  ami  heavy  tread  of  their  h«r  'i'tu- 

:hem,   perhaps,   that    the.    hamlitti    which    lhe\ 
only  too  hnsy  in  their  own  purposes  to  hi-,  hee.lful   ..f  their 
!:til  it  was  too  late.      Hut  let  n>  not  antic;; 

The    lilack    K'ulers  had    hornc   their  victim,  with   slow  steps. 

,  his  litter,  to   the   spot  which  had    l.ecn    ch«>>en    for   his   last 

involuntary  act   of  expiation.     Their  advance,  was   p-irceded  hy 

that  ofi'iirohl  friend,  the .watchful  scout,  .John  Hanni.sti-r.     Anx 

.  to  the,  last  decree,  for  the  safety  of  the   ladies  of  the 
ony,  he  had  tracked  the  steps  of  the  outlaws  to  the  as:-ault  upon 
the  , 'welling  —  following  as  rlnsely  upon  thei:  rould  he 

prudential  regard  to  his  own  safety.      He  had  he- 
heli!   ro  nuch  of  the  conllict  as  could  he  compre!,  one 

who  war;   c-mipclli  distant  covert 

ii-  ti.  The,  cause  of  the  fight,  .'in d  the  pr.il'es  to  it,  were 

equally  inscr  .    and  this,  too,  added   not    a   little  to 

the  anxiety  which  f.lnd  his  min  !.     This  anxiety  «- 
when    he    discr-vorcd    that    the    de.fences  of    t: 
broken  down,  and  the   house   in   the  iitti. 

•  •I'  Kl«-ra  U  n  was  in  their  '.  :  he  was  ina- 

t  t.»  >ei -\-  bor,      His  anguish  was  truly  indescriba 

ble,  as  it  was  nearly  ID 

IJut    ho  wa  -od    from  _;<:nce,  when   he 

heheld    t'. 

ill  W  Inch   he   !.;..i  mr\dn 

liis  hiding-place.      It    1  .lie 

the   place  v.  h«  re    !;e    had  left  his  canoe  ii:  the  con- 


400  TTIK    SCOUT. 

tody  «}'  tin.-  landlord  and  Jacob  Clarkson,  lie  was  souu-what  surprised 
to  lind  that  they  eontimud  to  follow  in  his  footsteps.  Somewhat 
wondering  at  this,  and  at  their  brief  delay  in  the  dwelling  which 
they  had  entered  alter  so  ohsjinaie  ;.  contlict.  he  ordered  M;. 
put  himself ,  Clarkson  and  the  canoe  into  close  cover,  while  he,  ad 
vancing  somewhat  upon  the  higher  grounds  before  them,  could,  from 
a  place  of  concealment,  observe  the  conduct  of  the  enemy,  and 
prescribe,  the  farther  conduct  of  his  own  attendants. 

He  had  not  Ion-'  to  wait.      The  Black  Riders  brought  their  pris- 
-pot  where  the  body  of  .Mary  C'larkson   lav  buried. 
The  fainting  form  of  the  outlav\  leaned  against    the  head 

board  which  the  devoted  1'aimiskr  ;.  ;   to  her  memory;  and 

as  the  anguish  following  the-  transfer  of  his  body  to  the  ground  from 
the  door  on  which  it  had  been  borne,  caused  Morton  lo  open  h.' 
and  rc-torcd  him  to  consciousness,  the  letters  "  M.  C."  inel  his  first 
glance;  but  their  import  remained  uneonjeetured .      He  had  not  much 
time  allowed  him  for  conjectures  of  any  kind.      His   implaeai  . 
Stockton,  stood  IK -I'-,  ire  him  with  looks  of  hate  and  triumph  which  tiie 
•e   man  found  it  dillicult   to  endure,  but   utterly  impossible  to 
avoid . 

"  It  is  all  over  with  you.  Ned    Morton,"  said  the  other.      "  Will 
you  beg  for  your  life  —  will  you  supplicate  me  for  mercy?" 
mile  of  scorn  pa<*e<l  over  the  lips  of  the  outlaw. 

"  My  life  i<  n,,t  in  your  hands,"  he  replied:    "and,  if  i<    \\< 
should  be  thrice  forfeit  before  I  should  acknowledge  your  power  and 
a^k  your  mercy .      I  bid  you  defiance  to  the  last.      1    look  upon  you 
without  fear,  though  with  unsuppressed  loathing,  a>'  I  quit  the  world, 

and.  in  this  way,  do  I  baffl  r  malice." 

AJB    he    Bpoke    thou  words,  he  drew    the  little  stiletto  suddenly 
from  hi-  IMI.M.UI,  and  plunged  it  desperately,  and  with  an  eil'or. 
ngth,  full  at  his  own  heart.      Hut  tin-  blow  was  batlled 
hand  of  Dun  ey,  who  had  placed  hiiiis\f  bHiind  Morton  without    1m 
knowledge,  was  extended  at  the  moment,  and  gra-ped  the  arm  which 
impelled  til"  W;  apoM  . 

fast  :  "  cried   SUx  ktori.    I  It  d   the  d 


!,  and    ' 

. 

• 

.   u|>oM   the   little  hill  ><-k    which   ( 
•  (li-1    he   at   !l. 
rarily  found  n  ; 
i  with   hiii.  Ill  cheat  the 

handitti.  raided  the  fainting 

,\v  iipi-n  thrir  >h"tiM(  r<.  \\lii'- 

ated 

: 

•.  5«-tiin.  a  jM-rtii-n  of  thrir  f»m. 

:h.     n,-  lev  k<  .1   ••(•';:  .1   apon  ilu-m  \\ ;- 

;ui'l    all    t! 

•'nil  (»f   life  and   dcliai;c<-,  am: 
II  !i!  uf  da: 

'"11. 

••  I !(•'!!  dii 

•:i/.c<l  1  In-  t'-  Kdward  (  'di\\  a\'.  'i 

'ruth  and  t<>  comprehend    the   Hr<  •  '.\liich    \\{.-n-    i 

••  11-11  dii 

I,     Hut    i: 
fain  1     name,    and     he's     ill-1     l>li'«'d  l-.i; 

:  vidcnt 

•if.i- 

.id,    after    In-    had    drawn   hi-  n   the 


SCOTT, 

tlu-  man  to  do  it.  lie's  got  a  sort  of  right  to  NY.i  (  on  Way'*  life. 
.lake  :  .lake  !" 

I!.-  railed  up  the  desolate  old  man,  who,  on  the  lower  ground  by 
Mir  river,  had  not  seen  these  proceed 

".lake  !  "  lie  said  —  "  is  your  ritle  loaded  ?  ' 

"Ye 

"Then  look,  man  !  —  there's  your  enemy  —  there's  "Xed  ( 'on  way — 
It's  him  that  they're  a-lifting  up  among  them  there.  I  'spoae  they 
want  to  do  liim  some  partie'lar  kind  of  honor,  but  it's  jrst  over  poor 
Clary's  grave  !  " 

The  words  were  electric  !  The  old  man  grasped  and  raised  his 
v.vapon.  Hi-  saw  not  the  purpose  of  the  crowd,  nor  did  he  pause  to 
ask  what  was  the  soil  of  honor  which  they  were  disposed  to  confer 
upon  the  outlaw.  lie  saw  Jiini!  —  7//.s-  face  only  !  TI«<t  lie  knew, 
and  that  was  enough.  A  moment  elapsed  —  but  one  !  and  the  report 
of  the  ritle  rantr  sharply  along  the  river  banks.  In  the  same  moment 
the  men  who  were  lifting  Edward  Morton  to  the  tree  dropped  the 
bodv  to  the  ground.  The  work  of  death  was  already  done  !  Their 
efforts  were  no  longer  necessary,  as  their  design  was  unavailing. 
The  bullet  had  penetrated  the  forehead  of  the  outlaw  and  his  blond 
streamed  from  the  orifice  upon  the  still  fresh  mould  which  covered 
the  victim  of  his  passions.  The  Black  Riders  turned  In  the  quarter 
whence  the  shot  had  come,  but  the  boat  of  John  Bannister,  bearing 
himself  and  his  associates,  was  already  at  some  distance  from  the 
shore, 


LtTSIOK, 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

CONCLUSION. 

THK  rage  of  Stockton  at  being  thus  defrauded  of  his  prey  at 
last,  though  violent,  was  of  no  effort.  He  discharged  his  own 
pistol  at  the  boat  which  contained  the  fugitives;  an  idle  act. 
which  was  followed  by  a  like  discharge  from  some  twenty  of  his 
followers.  They  might  as  well  have  aimed  their  bullets  at  the  moon. 
John  Bannister  an^uered  them  with  a  shout — which,  to  their  con 
sternation,  found  an  echo  from  twenty  voices  in  the  woods  behind 
them.  They  turned  to  confront  an  unexpected  enemy.  Clarence 
Conway  was  already  upon  them.  His  little  band,  in  advance  of 
km  two  divi>ions.  began  the  fray  as  soon  as  it  had  reached 
within  striking  di-tance:  and  the  sudden  effect  of  the  surprise 
compensated  well  for  the  inadequacy  of  the  asssailing  party.  The 
broadsword  wa^  doing  fearful  execution  among  the  scattered  ban 
ditti,  before  Stockton  well  knew  in  what  direction  to  turn  to  me<  t 
hi>  en.  my. 

But  the  power  which  he  had  thus  so  lately  gained  wa>  too 
and  had  called  for  too  much  toil  and  danger  to  be  yielded 
without  u  violent  struggle;  and,  if  men-  brute  courage  could  have 
:  for  hi-  safety,  the  outlaw  might  Mill  1,  .,1  the 

88 of  his  indiscretion.  He  rallied  his  men  with  prompt 
ness,  enforced  their  courage  by  the  exhibition  of  his  own;  ami  his 
numbers,  being  still  superior  to  the  small  force  which  had  followed 
Conway  through  the  woods,  the  rflVet  of  his  MM  onslaught  was 
measurably  neutralized,  and  the  Nsuu  of  the  conllict  soon  grew 
doubtful. 

Hut  it  did  not  long  remain  so.  Tin  division  from  below  soon 
struck  in.  and  the  outlaw-  gave  way.  They  broke  at  length,  and 
endeavored  to  find  -atVty  by  thin-  up  the  banks  of  the  river;  but 
lien-  they  were  met  by  a  third  division  of 


470  THE  SCu 

and  their  retreat  entirely  cut  off.  Hemmed  in  on  every  side, 
assured  that  no  quarter  would  be  given  them,  they  asked  for  none, 
but  fought  and  died  upon  the  ground  to  which  they  had  been 
forced. 

It  was  the  fortune  of  Stockton  to  fall  under  the  sabre  of  Clarence 
Con  way;  while  Darcy,  leaping  into  the  river,  perished  beneath  a 
blow  from  the  clubbed  rifle  of  John  Bannister,  whose  boat,  a  moment 
after,  touched  the  shore. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  rapturous  expressions  of  his  wild 
whoop  of  joy  at  this  unlooked-for  meeting.  Meeting  witli  his 
friend  and  leader,  in  a  moment  of  such  complete  victory,  amply 
atoned  to  him  for  all  the  trials,  risks  and  anxieties  to  which  he  had 
been  exposed  from  the  night  of  their  separation.  Not  one  of  the 
Black  Riders  escaped  the  conflict.  The  greater  number  fell  beneath 
the  swords  of  their  conquerors;  but  some  few,  in  their  desperation, 
leapt  into  the  Congaree,  which  finally  engulfed  them  all.  Clarence 
Conway,  after  the  close  of  the  conflict,  devoted  a  few  painful 
moments  to  the  examination  of  the  bloody  field.  But  John  Bannis 
ter  threw  himself  between  his  commander  and  one  of  the  victims 
of  the  day.  The  eye  of  Clarence  searchingly  fell  on  that  of 
his  follower;  and  he  at  once  divined  the  meaning  of  the  interrup 
tion. 

"It's  here,  then,  that  he  lies,  John?    How  did  he  die?" 

"Yes,  Clarence,  there  he  is;  — a  rifle  bullet  kept  off  a  worse 
eending.  He  died  like  a  brave  man,  though  it  mou't  be  he  didn't 
live  like  a  good  one.  Leave  the  rest  to  me,  Clarence.  I'll  see  that 
he's  put  decently  out  of  sight.  But  you'd  better  push  up  and  see 
Miss  Flora  and  the  old  lady.  I  reckon  they've  had  a  mighty  scary 
time  of  it." 

"I  thank  you,  John.  I  will  look  but  once  on  the  son  of  my 
father,  and  leave  the  rest  to  you." 

"It's  a  ragged  hole  that  a  rifle  bullet  works  in  a  white  fore 
head,  Clarence,  and  you'll  hardly  know  it; "said  the  scout  as  he 
reluctantly  gave  way  before  Hie  approach  of  his  superior. 
Clarence  Conway  gazed  in  silence  for  a  space  upon  the  inani 
mate  and  bloody  form  before  him;  a  big  tear  gathered  slowly 
in  his  eyes;  but  he  brushed  away  the  intruder  with  a  hasty 
band,  while  he  turned  once  more  to  meet  his  followers  who  were 


LU8IOH,  471 

slowlj  gathering  in  the  back  ground.  He  felt,  even  at  that  mo- 
incut,  a  din-nnir  .M-n^ition,  :is  In-  knew  that  his  brother  had  fal 
len  liy  another  hand  than  his.  That  pang,  at  least,  was  spared 
him  ;  and  for  the  rest,  the  cause  of  sorrow  was  comparativelj 
slight. 

11  He  could  have  lived,"  he  murmured  as  he  turned  away  from  the 
bloody  spectacle  —  "  He  could  have  lived  only  as  a  dishonored  and  a 
suspected  man.  His  path  would  have  been  stained  with  crime,  and 
dogged  by  enemies.  It  is  better  that  it  is  thus!  May  God  have 
mercy  on  his  soul  !" 

Our  story  is  on  the  threshold  of  conclusion.  We  have  little  more 
to  say.  Flora  Middleton  and  her  lover  were  soon  reconciled, 
and  the  misunderstanding  between  them  easily  and  promptly 
explained.  Jacob  Clarkson  and  John  Bannister  were  living 
and  suflicient  witnesses  to  save  Clarence  Conway  the  necessity 
of  answering  for  himself,  and  of  denouncing  his  late  kinsman. 
Between  unsophisticated  and  sensible  people,  such  as  we  have 
sought  to  make  our  lovers  appear,  there  could  be  no  possibility 
of  a  protract  :i  of  doubts,  misgivings,  shynesses  and 

•MpicioiftB,  which  a  frank  heart  and  a  generous  spirit,  could 
not  breathe  under  for  a  day,  but  which  an  ingenious  novelist 
could  protract  through  a  term  of  years,  and  half  a  dozen  vol 
umes.  In  the  course  of  a  brief  year  following  these  events  the 
British  wire  beaten  from  the  country,  and  Clarence  and  Flora 
united  in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony.  The  last  was  an  event 
which  nobody  ever  supposed  was  regretted  by  either.  John 
Bannister  lived  with  them  at  the  barony,  from  the  time  of  their 
marriage,  through  the  pleasant  seasons  of  a  protracted  life.  Many 
of  our  readers  may  remember  to  have  seen  the  white-headed  old 
man  who,  in  his  latter  days,  exchanged  his  soubriquet  of  Supple 
Jack,  for  one  more  dignified,  though,  possibly,  less  popular  among 
the  other  sex.  He  was  called  "Bachelor  Bannister."  toward  the 
closing  years  of  his  life,  and.  when  in  the  presence  of  the  ladies, 
did  not  quarrel  with  the  designation.  His  long  stories  about  the 
Revolution,  of  his  own  feats  and  those  of  Clarence  Conway.  were 
remembered  and  repeated  by  him.  with  little  variation,  to  the  last. 
In  this  he  differed  considerably  from  ordinary  chroniclers  of  the 


472  THE   SCOUT. 

old  scnool,  simply,  perhaps,  because  his  stories  were  originally  more 
truthful,  and  his  memory,  in  spite  of  his  years,  which  were  "frosty 
yet  kindly,"  was  singularly  tenacious  to  the  end.  Our  narrative  has 
been  compiled  from  particulars  chiefly  gained,  though  at  second-hand, 
from  this  veracious  source. 

John  Bannister  lived  long  enough  to  see  the  eldest  son  of  Clarence 
Conway  almost  as  good  a  marksman  with  the  rifle,  and  as  supple 
a  forester,  as  he  himself  had  been  in  his  better  days;  and  his 
dying  moments  were  consoled,  by  the  affectionate  offices  of  those, 
whom,  with  a  paternal  wisdom,  he  had  chosen  for  his  friends  from 
the  beginning.  It  may  be  stated,  en  pctMnnl,  that  our  exquisite, 
Mr.  Surgeon  Hillhouse,  neither  lost  his  life  nor  his  wardrobe  in  the 
conflict  at  Middleton  Barony.  He  survived  his  wounds  and  saved 
his  luggage.  His  self-esteem  was  also  preserved,  strange  to  - 
spite  of  all  his  failures  with  the  sex.  He  was  one  whom  Providence 
had  wondrously  blessed  in  this  particular.  Of  self-esteem  he  had 
quite  as  many  garments,  if  not  more,  than  were  allotted  to  his  person. 
He  certainly  had  a  full  and  fresh  suit  for  every  day  in  the  year. 


OF    • 

UNIVERSITY 
OF 

sP^LIF 


THE   END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL  NO.  642-3405 
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